Seriously, people of the internet, stop encouraging me to get even fatter. My poor little body can’t handle this much fat! I was really trying to rein it in and curb my gains for a bit—but when someone offers to buy me food, how could I possibly say no?

I’d been craving Shake Shack for weeks but told myself I’d be on my best behavior this December: no delivery, no overindulgence, no major gains. But thanks to one very depraved enabler, those plans are officially canceled. Raincheck? Let’s be real—probably not.

Now I’m hitting all my cravings: Shake Shack’s fried chicken...

Seriously, people of the internet, stop encouraging me to get even fatter. My poor little body can’t handle this much fat! I was really trying to rein it in and curb my gains for a bit—but when someone offers to buy me food, how could I possibly say no?

I’d been craving Shake Shack for weeks but told myself I’d be on my best behavior this December: no delivery, no overindulgence, no major gains. But thanks to one very depraved enabler, those plans are officially canceled. Raincheck? Let’s be real—probably not.

Now I’m hitting all my cravings: Shake Shack’s fried chicken sandwich, cheese fries, and a chocolate shake. Churros stuffed with fudge. Big, pepperoni-covered soft pretzels. Oil, dough, carbs, and sugar—just what my body doesn’t need but has been shamelessly conditioned to crave.

It’s like the internet has turned being fat into my full-time job. All I need is the tiniest encouragement, a single suggestion, or even a passing nudge, and I’m ordering enough food to feed a small army—except it’s just for me. You’ve all turned me into your pet project, haven’t you? Watching me grow, stuffing myself silly, giving into every impulse. And the worst part? I can’t even pretend I don’t love it.

***

Clip features: eating, fat chat, lack of impulse control, light burp, FUPA