hey, cute fat girl!
by miss amp


So there's this fat girl over there and I can't stop looking at her. I mean, she isn't, like, giantly fat. But she's probably the curviest girl in this anorexic Shoreditch hipster joint.

This girl, she got it goin' on. We're talking knee socks. Cork soled wedgies with little vegetable stickers all over them. A low-slung A-line skirt. Hair a cute ruffled bob, dyed red: her mouth is red too, pouting round a candy-striped straw, and her top is all horizontal stripes. Red and black.

Fat chicks aren't meant to wear horizontal stripes, are they. They accentuate. But this chick, she wants to accentuate. She knows what's up. She knows where her power lies. Penis envy? Huh-uh. Like, sure. Like, mm. Breast envy? Now there's a thing worth being envious of.

Hey Cute Fat Girl I'd Like To Fuck, I got a question for you. Where did all the other cute fat girls go? The reason I'm ogling you so hard is cuz Miss Fat Thang ain't really got it going on anywhere in our popular cultcha, and I miss it. And I bet I'm not the only one. I'm cool with the thin girls: but where are the fat ones? I wanna stand at the front at some gig and imagine burying my hands in the singer-girl's ass and really feeling them sink.


A few years ago it almost looked like we were onto something, what with Sophie Dahl busting sluttishly out of her threads, but she came to her fashion senses and got with the personal trainer. A few years before that we had that chick out of the Voodoo Queens - remember, anyone? Any aging Riot Grrrls here wanna stick their hands in the air and say 'YEAH'? These hot Asian bitches busting out of their tops and yelling shit about being size 16 and how IT'S ALL STOMACH; three-chord stompers about fancying Keanu Reeves and punching supermodels in the face - it was cool. Didn't matter though in the end, because it always comes back to the same thing, same place - and that's a perfect 10.

I ain't bothered about skinny film stars and supermodels because that's their job. They're paid to be thin and let the clothes hang good off them: let them get on with it. Hell, we're all little alterna-hipsters here and since when did we look to the mainstream for our succour? I'm down with the sound of the underground: on my knees, snuffling for truffles. But what do I get? Hm. Where are the fat sexy girls?

Correct me if I'm wrong, and I sure as fuck hope you will, but at present, I'm just not getting shit. (Oh, alright, there's that chick in The Gossip and someone in some other girly guitar band, but I'm talking about real music, with beats and 505s and stuff, not lame indie lo$er Olympia hairslide nonsense.)

I mean, I'm down with the Peaches schtick, but watching her the other week, curly mullet teased to perfection, handbag swinging and glinting in the light, pilled-up gayboys clutching adoringly at her scrawny thighs, her glittery body (as in underwear) dangling undone above those hot pink shorts - and I thought, she's all right, but it's not enough. Call me greedy, a slave to my base instincts - it's not enough. She's old, sure, and she done a photo with pit hair, which is always rad and cool - but I need more. I want cellulite. I want bazooms. I want big booty ass like two melons, and I want it fat and proud and in my face. And I could just bend over and look in the mirror, but dude, where's the fun in that?


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"i want big booty ass like two melons, fat and proud and in my face"






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