Society needs to stop with this acceptance trend. It seems everywhere I look, people are increasingly unhappy, unhealthy and unsatisfied.

And it’s not because I think you’re fat. Or ugly.

It’s because you’ve given up. Why have you given up?

Why should I feel ashamed because I am attracted to that petite girl with the little waist, luscious ass, perky tits… AND a bubbly personality?

Why shouldn’t she accentuate her beautiful eyes with eyeliner and mascara. Or make her kissable lips even more irresistible with red lipstick?

And why should you hate that “skinny bitch” because you couldn’t be bothered to wash your hair, put on a bra, or pluck that stray hair before you wobbled out to get another Big Mac with a Dr Pepper and milkshake?

Yet now we get offended because the opposite (or same, I suppose) sex doesn’t find us attractive? It’s called bullying. It’s called fat-shaming.

No, you need to take care of yourself.

No, you don’t need to do it for me. Pride maybe considered a “deadly sin,” yet a little can go a long way. If you like the way that “skinny bitch” looks, she’d probably love to share what she did with her hair, what make up she prefers, where she got that sun dress.

And if that sun dress looks terrible on you? Well, gym memberships are very reasonable these days. Plus there’s the outdoors for walking. There’s push ups and sit ups that can be done with no extra requirements. Then, there is always CrossFit.

It also doesn’t hurt to consider that just because the food industry has ensured we can have volumes of sugar. at. each. meal. doesn’t mean we have to.

The worst thing to come from the cola wars of the 1980s is that soda is more readily available than water. A couple of generations ago, a cola was considered a treat—to be enjoyed once a week, or maybe even once a month.

Your body is telling you it’s not quenching your thirst, yet you need those sugary bubbles, so maybe another can of Mountain Dew will hit the spot. Or another 12-pack. Why make diabetes trendy?

And what about fitness?

Once upon a time there was an assessment in grade school called the Presidential Fitness Challenge, or something similar. Whatever happened to it?

I’m not going to lie. I was a fat kid. And unflexible. I did terrible at half to two-thirds of the assessments.

Yet, compared to kids on the street today, I was a young Adonis. I can’t imagine many of these kids doing a single sit up—much less thirty in a minute.

Say what you will about bullying and fat-shaming, pressure from our peers—both good and bad—can influence better decisions. It is a shame most don’t take insults as a hint they could do better.

I didn’t like it either. Again, no lie.

Yet, now I’m in the best shape of my life. And I’ll reserve the right as a former fat ass to call you fat.

And I have no guilt in being attracted to dazzling young lady who is rocking that bikini with her tan and her tight body.

You’re not okay. You’re miserable. And you don’t have to be. You can fix it.