fat girls don't get laid

they tell me i'm a clown, as a term of endearment. they mean it

in a nice way although i'm never sure what to say when they brand

me as the funny one. it feels like a polite synonym for the ugly one.

the one that people don't notice, that is, until i crack a joke; then,

i'm the bell of the ball. free entertainment for all. i'll admit that in

the right situation, i'm a fucking hoot, but that doesn't compensate

for the fact that my sex appeal is on mute and some idiot lost my

remote. the globe of my gut will shudder with pleasure at every

inappropriate joke i endeavour but at the end of the night, no one

wants to go home with the funny, fat chick. no. she isn't the right

kind of stimulant for a di-

so i will remain a clown. i will spit out one-liners and cruel verbal

concoctions with a sarcastic spin, i'll be so open that you'll think

i've let you all in but actually, i'm a closed book. a big book. with

pages torn and stained. by the sad and hurtful reality, that

fat girls don't get laid.