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The pursuit of deep philosophical inquiry is a heritage of the West. This post continues in that noble tradition.

For purposes of comparison we begin our thought experiment with two slender (~ BMI 19) 20 year old women of above average attractiveness. They are both at the peak of their beauty. Which will steal their most valuable asset the quickest and render them sexually worthless — the horrors of aging or the disfigurement of obesity? Let’s find out!

Girl A is our gluttonous subject. Boy, does she like food. Recently, her boyfriend got complacent with the regular sex and regressed to a house trained beta, prompting her to fill the emptiness in her vaj-shaped soul with Krispy Kreme donuts.

Girl B is our control. She has good eating and exercise habits (read: primal diet. not a vegetarian. lifts weights. doesn’t run marathons.) and stays slim. The only force that takes a toll on her beauty is aging, which happens to everyone. Assuming average genetics, she will age about as fast as the typical woman, meaning a slow decline up to 30, then a rapid acceleration to the wall between 30 and 40, followed by an afterburner turbocharge at the point of impact sometime around age 45, after which she will be invisible to all men except the most desperate herb dregs.

We begin the experiment. There are 3500 calories in a pound of body fat, and 200 calories in a Krispy Kreme original glazed donut. Girl A goes on a donut bender and eats 1.05 Krispy Kreme donuts per week per year. 1.05 Krispy Kreme donuts per week doesn’t sound like much, does it ladies? Keep reading. She does not substitute smaller portions in her other meals or increased physical activity to counterbalance the extra calories from the donuts. At this rate of donut consumption, Girl A adds 5 pounds of unsightly fat to her frame every year. Keep in mind, too, that Girl A is aging as well as getting larger.

Meanwhile, our control, Girl B, has been suffering the indignity of aging without her even knowing it for the first five years or so after age 20. But unseen at the molecular level, her body is breaking down. From age 20 to 21, no one will really notice a change, especially not her boyfriend who sees her every day. Only in the aggregate over blocks of a few years will an outward change become noticeable. From 20 to 25, her body remains tight and right, while her face sheds some of that exquisitely soft baby fat of her late teen years and becomes more chiseled, angular. At age 25, she is still near-peak in facial beauty, but subtle changes have taken hold; her skin no longer glows without artificial accentuation (ladies pinch, whores rouge) and her flesh has lost some gravity-defying firmness. She would not pass the quarter bounce off a Marine’s cot test, but her ass remains delightfully squeezeable.

Now we do the first set of comparisons.

  • At one year in (21 years old) Girl A is five pounds heavier. Since she is young, the fat sits on her well. Her boyfriend notices the small weight gain, but his boner is largely unaffected. He continues fucking her joyfully, although his eye wanders a little more when they’re out in public together.
  • At 21 years old, Girl B has aged one year. Superficially, no change in her beauty. Her boyfriend is none the wiser of the tragedy that will eventually befall his beloved.

What happens at age 25?

  • At 25, Girl A has gained 25 pounds. Trouble brewing! Her boyfriend definitely notices her added padding, but mostly chooses to avoid confronting her about it, instead prefering the method of passive aggressive mutterings about other women’s skinniness, hoping that will spur her to get back in shape. He is beginning to regret spending 20K on that diamond engagement ring. His eye wanders a lot more now, he showers her with fewer compliments, and the frequency of their sex has dropped in half. He stays an hour later at work.
  • At 25, Girl B has aged five years. Her face has become mature, having sloughed off the last remnants of teen years softness and firmness. A tiny hint of crows’ feet appears, along with a few dimples of cottage cheese where the bottom of the ass meets the hamstrings. She is attractive, but in a different, less feminine way now; her’s is the attractiveness of a strident hard-charger, piercing the air before her like a wedge of sharpened flesh when she walks down the street. Good exercise habits have delayed any major drooping of her ass. Her boyfriend still finds her hot, but familiarity and the ancient stirrings of his manly seed-spreading spirit have caused his eye to dilate with greater gusto when appreciating the delicacies of younger women.

On to age 30.

  • At 30, Girl A is 50 pounds heavier. Oh my. She has formally left “chubby” and “pleasingly plump” euphemistic territory and entered the land of lardasses. The fat refuses to sit on her well; it hangs dolorously, it balloons insultingly. Her tits, while bigger, are also more pendulous, completely negating whatever benefit larger tits normally confer. Her boyfriend has stopped looking at her naked body entirely, and sex has dwindled to once a month with the lights off. She attempts to assuage her bruised ego by reigniting his passion with sex toys, lingerie, and pole dancing, but the effect on him is like that of watching a dog poop; sort of intriguing in its repulsiveness, and darkly humorous in the straining which accompanies the act. He has stopped giving her compliments or gifts, and forgets important dates, like her birthday. He stays at work two hours late. On the bright side, all that fat helps conceal the wrinkles normally associated with a woman turning 30.
  • At 30, Girl B has aged ten years. She, like Girl A, has crossed a Rubicon. There was a quickening diminishment of her beauty from age 25 to 30, but during that time she at least could console herself that dim lighting, exercise, and makeup were sufficient to hide from the general public the horrors besieging her from every quadrant. She looked in the mirror and she could still say to herself, with eroding certainty, that she was a hot commodity. Her boyfriend mostly seemed to agree with her self-assessment. After all, he was still with her, despite a couple episodes of cheating and that unfortunate incident when she found the receipt for a cubic zirconia ring. He doesn’t compliment as much, their sex life has become a bit routine, and he works an hour later every day, but mostly things are good.


  • 35 years old. Girl A is 75 pounds over her 20 year old weight. She is a whale. Her boyfriend, having neither the courage nor the game to leave her for a sexier woman, sticks around out of a false sense of duty, and pity. Sex has stopped, except for those few times he’s so horny that he wakes her up with his dick in her mouth. She loves these times, as she imagines it shows he still desires her, but when she sucks him off and tries to guide his hardon down to her flabby distended pussy lips, his cock goes limp, quivering in fear. He has nightmares of her bloated labia attacking him, two roast beefs slapping him in the side of his head, over and over. As he no longer feels any urgency to please his fat girlfriend (he appealed to her lofty feminism and stated that marriage was a patriarchal conspiracy), he has regressed to a lesser beta, whacking off constantly to porn, throwing himself into his meaningless career, and playing video games til 3am. Girl A cries herself to sleep every night.
  • At 35, Girl B is 15 years older than her peak beauty. The deterioration has begun in earnest. There is no more hiding the ravages of aging; makeup, exercise, yoga, and night vision goggles can’t stop her face from betraying her lost beauty. Crows’ feet and laugh lines are permanently embedded. Hollowness perpetually encircles her eyes. Her skin has become inelastic, and her ass, finally, after years of squats in the gym, droops resignedly, as if to say “You gave it your best shot, but I’m tired. Let me go.” Luckily, she is still thin, almost at the same weight she was at 20, and her boyfriend, though he cannot deny that younger women excite his member more vigorously than she does, still finds pleasure in boffing her. Sure, it isn’t the visceral pleasure it once was, but he gets off, and that’s a day’s pay. But much else has changed for the worse. Compliments have dropped off to the level of the boyfriend with the 25 year old fattie girlfriend. He used to surprise her with flowers and nights out on the town. Now he surprises her if he comes home from work on time. He has cheated with a much younger woman, but hides it. He feels no shame for his infidelity, only a compulsion to continue doing it.


  • Girl A is 100 pounds overweight. She is so disgusting to look at it arouses her loser boyfriend to physically strike at her in anger and hopelessness. She is having health problems, struggling to climb stairs or walk a few blocks. Her boyfriend refuses to go out in public with her; one time, when they were at the mall, he purposefully walked 20 paces ahead of her, and when a cute Banana Republic salesgirl asked him, when his fat wife was out of earshot, if he and his wife needed assistance, he, like the apostle Peter, denied his affiliation with her.
  • Girl B is on the cusp of sexual worthlessness, and she knows it. Wrinkles adorn her face, dimples dot her flesh, gray streaks her hair. Depressingly, her areolae have grown to the size of small saucer plates. But she is thin, which puts her head and shoulders above 80% of women her age in attractiveness. She can continue denying the reality closing in on her like a ripper in the night, because older men, chained to fat wives and out of the running for younger women, eye her up like an oasis in the desert. When a man thinks he has a chance, he allows his arousal to reach a fever pitch. Her boyfriend, though, has finally given up pretending to be attracted to her. Sex has become perfunctory, a chore not much more pleasant than taking a good piss. He throws himself into his career, his genetic algorithm impelling him to amass status and resources for a trade up to a more fertile woman.


Fat is the boner killer. Five years into the experiment, at age 25, Girl A’s relationship has degraded to the point of hurting her pride as a woman, while Girl B continues enjoying the love and affection of her lover. At age 30, ten years on, both women suffer the indignities associated with losing sexual market value, but Girl A, at 50 pounds heavier, has hit the wall sooner, and harder, than Girl B. At 30, Girl A is sexually worthless, and unlove-able. Girl B remains sexually enticing, though less so than at age 20, but enough of her value remains that her boyfriend does not entertain leaving her to try his hand at an upgrade.

At age 35, Girl A has gone from bad to worse. She is not only unfuckable, she is unwatchable. Whatever other good she does in her life (feed the homeless, help the starving children in Africa) is overshadowed by her grotesque rolls of blubber. People avoid interacting with her for fear of contracting a loser virus. Meanwhile, Girl B continues getting sex from her boyfriend, if not love. People enjoy talking with her, though she can’t help but notice that men’s eyes don’t light up like they used to when she walks in a room with a low-cut blouse and a thigh-revealing skirt.

At 40 it’s all over for Girl A. She is ballast on society. If she died, no one would miss her.

At 40, Girl B has accepted that the greatest source of her power, and hence, her happiness, is gone — her beauty teases with hints of a former loveliness, but that’s all it is; a tease. The men she finds most desirable don’t even see her. The men she sorta finds attractive are barely moved in her presence. The men she used to find unattractive and ignore she now talks and flirts with unabashedly, and only after much effort on her part does she get nibbles of sexual interest from some of these men. But worst of all, the absolute bottom of the barrel men hit on her relentlessly, like they never used to do, and this depresses her mightily. Girl B, lonely from the inattention of her boyfriend/husband, seeks an affair. To accomplish this, she has learned the art of the coquettish cougar pawing, whereby much skin is displayed and all coyness is tossed out the window.

What we have learned from this thought experiment is that fat hastens the day of reckoning by about fifteen years. So if you are a young fat chick, lose the weight pronto, cause you’re throwing away the best years of your life.

My advice to the ladies: Stay slender, and stay 21. Then you, too, can enjoy relationship exactness and complementarity!


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