I Want a Divorce

Not from my dear Mr. Zigkvetch, though. (Perish the thought!)

No, I wish to divorce my fat.

I wish then to sue it for alimony, as I have been supporting its lazy ass for years by supplying free room and board in my belly. I figure it owes me, big time. Not to mention that even if this works and I get it to leave for good, the place is going to be a shambles and need some serious redecorating which isn't cheap, my friends!

I want it to gather its things and leave peacefully and end this stupid fighting. I'm tired of arguing with it, pleading with it, trying to just put up and live with it, accommodating it, and making sacrifices for it.

My fat has been an abusive cad, damaging my self-esteem and it even crossed the line and hurt me physically. Which is why I want to cut it out of my life for good. There will be no visitations, no reconciliation, no couple's therapy.

Fat, if you read this, I'm kicking you to the curb, you lowlife. Hit the road, Jack, and don't you come back no more.