Had an argument with a guy in the street. I wanted to imply he was dumb but couldn’t think of anything that said so and ended up calling him a “nimwit.”

I hoped he was dumb enough to think it was a real insult but, you know, it probably just let him know I was dumb.

I’m at that weight where you look at yourself in the mirror naked and think you’re fat but don’t imagine anyone else should. That weight where friends tell you, “Hey! You look thin,” but street adversaries call you fat and it surprises you.

I think this guy called me a “fat ass,” which is funny ’cause my ass has never been fat. Maybe he doesn’t know which part of the body is an ass.

What a nimwit.

Makes me want to continue eating entire pounds of granola, as I did yesterday, ’cause if I get authentically thin and it improves my life, then this guy has won. I have to be perfect the way I am right now or he cannot a true nimwit be. But, you know, I’m at that weight where women smile at you. At me, I mean. So, I must be perfect now. Right?

Still, I can’t stay fat, even though I’m not fat, although I am a little fat and my clothes make me look like I’m fat where I’m not and don’t hide where I am. You know, I gotta be thin for my health.

Damn health. Why is it on the side of that nimwit? Health makes the nimwit win. I wonder if health has money on the nimwit.

He did look, scanning me just after he may have said “fat ass” (I wasn’t one hundred percent sure he did), as if he wasn’t certain he had been apt or fair. Could be my fat ass is his nimwit.

But as Winston Churchill said, he can go back to school, but my ass will still be fat in the morning.

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