It is frequently stated that those who wish to deride fat people as a group or bring down Fat Acceptance as a political cause are those who are most invested in the idea that fat is bad. This, I would propose, is an understatement and, as such, is being far too kind to the bell-ends to whom it refers.

You see, I wrote a piece the other day asking just what was wrong with people who felt the need to attack fat people and movements that sought to represent their interests. Well, those who attack fat people with the most vehemence and who obsess over their hatred for Fat Acceptance are, I have come to believe, those who have succeeded in destroying their own identities.

Allow to elucidate. For whatever reason, these people have tied their sense of self-worth to the number on a scale, or the inches on a tape-measure. For some reason, they have hinged their entire sense of personal success on something completely arbitrary.The idea of fat people being able to actually like themselves and encourage other people to do the same, therefore, threatens the core of their identity by exposing the thing that they’ve opted to tie their self-worth to as completely piss-up-the-wall arbitrary. And since they have literally nothing else to offer the world by way of a sense of self, those of us who just want to see fat people treated a bit better in society end up having to listen to their endless self-pitying whinging until I want to find a machete and re-enact my favourite scenes of Jason X with them as extras.

Speaking as a skinny man myself (and when I say “skinny”, I mean “Jack Skeleton Posing for the Summer Collection”), I find this decision by some of my fellow bone-bags to tie their whole identity to their weight to baffling to the point of having to question if maybe they have a small object lodged in their brain that prevents logical and intelligent thought.

I suppose its insecurity that does it- the need to grab onto the first self-worth meme that passes by before they’re all gone. But it still strikes me as patently stupid. Maybe its just that insecurity is a wholly alien concept to me and that’s why I a) can’t understand these people and b) find them so weirdly fascinating (in much the same way that I’d find a new species of killer spider fascinating- i.e. I’d like to find them fascinating from a distance if at all possible). Whatever some of my more stupid critics (which would be, ooh, let’s see, all of them) would have you believe, my sense of self-worth really does defy the usual paradox. For most people, a massively overinflated ego also means a fragile ego, whereas I’m in the unique position of having an ego so massive it’s occassionally mistaken for a small planetary body and so tough Jeremy Paxman wouldn’t dare interview it.

But my casual boasting aside for five seconds, I find fatphobes uniquely interesting and tragic specimens. I understand, objectively, insecurity is a major problem for a lot of people, but I’m still having difficulty figuring out why, if you suffer from this problem, you’d think the obvious solution was to become a despicable, bullying twat whose life’s only goal is to hurt fat people. I mean, these people do realise that at some point they’re going to have to look back on the accomplishments of their lives and all they’ll be able to say is “I lost five pounds one year, and this one time, I made a chubby person cry”. Well, bravo, Alexander the Fucking Great, I hope reflecting on your lifetime of globally-significant conquest fixes that niggling feeling that you’re probably a waste of space you’ve been cowering in the shadow of all these years!

In short, the fatphobe is a sad and stupid creature: starting from a position of emotional insecurity, they first make the mistake of grabbing a hollow sense of self-worth based on the numbers on a scale, and then compound it with the secondary mistake of being an aggressive twat about it. Pity them, loathe them or roast them with a flame-thrower, just for goodness sake don’t let them breed.