The world would be a better place if mosquitoes sucked fat instead of blood.

I’d be really slim if it wasn’t for birthdays, anniversaries, Easter, Christmas, Mother’s Day, weekends and me.

I get it, sauce, I also thicken over time.

Being lazy has its advantages. I still have most of my winter fat from last year.

If I had a dollar for every time someone called me fat, I’d probably just spend it on more bacon.

Why isn’t there a mosquito that sucks fat?

I’m getting targeted ads about chin fat and I’m offended by the relevance.

My brain cells, skin cells and hair cells continue to die, but my fat cells seem to have an eternal life.

I wish I was a cat, because the fatter you are, the more people like you.

There’s a fat man inside me dying to get out.

I’m not fat. I’m just easy to see.

My new diet plan is to hibernate and live off all this fat I’ve accumulated.

I found there was only one way to look thin: hang out with fat people.

Call a girl beautiful 1000 times and she won’t notice. Call her fat once and she will never forget. That’s because elephants never forget.

Ctrl Alt delete my fat.

Dear food, either stop being so delicious or stop making me fat.

Why can’t my fat leave me like everything else does?

All the things I like to do are either immoral, illegal, or fattening.