In a darker period of my life, I was always trying to bone fat chicks. As outlandish as the claim may seem, I swear that I just could not keep my hands off these bitches like an Italian to pizza dough. It was bad. However, I always kept a certain level of standards that I followed dilligently:
1. Fatties must be under 300 pounds.
2. Must have a vagina.
Thanks to my rigorous standards and this beautiful, hand-crafted (my ass) wooden scale, I was able to weigh fatties in quicker than a New Jersey truck stop. At $60, the scale not only looked great but was also easily replaced when a bitch lied and told me she was 150. She ended up being 459 pounds and sometimes ballooning to 478 after buckets of KFC. I’m so ashamed.