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How Am I Supposed To Get Off When News Networks Only Show Obese People From The Neck Down?

It never fails. Every time I turn on the television and there’s a news segment about obesity—whether it’s on diabetes, heart disease, or the American diet—they do the same thing. They roll footage of obese bodies, but they never show these people above the neck. All of which leads me to wonder: How in the hell am I supposed to ever get off if I can’t see the fat faces of the people those fat bodies belong to?

It’s unbelievably frustrating. What is the logic behind this?

See, for me, there’s nothing better than coming home after a long day of work, plopping down in front of the television, and masturbating to fat people on the news. So when I see a promo saying they have a story on obesity coming up after the break, and see the lovely body of a 300-pounder shuffling down a sidewalk, I’m thinking, hey, here we go! I unbuckle my belt, pull my pants down, and settle in for what is sure to be a few solid minutes of sexual ecstasy. But sadly, it’s never that simple.

Now, to be fair, even without the heads and faces, these news segments do get me aroused. Boy, do they ever! I start getting hot almost immediately. Maybe they show flabby legs and a torso on a park bench, a pair of pudgy hands lifting a cheese-steak sandwich, or—best of all—a bare belly spilling all over the waistband of a swimsuit. Thirty seconds in, and I’ve got a raging hard-on.

But, unfortunately, that’s where it stops. They dangle all these tantalizing, incredibly sexy fat bodies in front of you, and then they cut away to a doctor talking, never once showing the obese people’s blubbery cheeks, beady eyes, or alluring jowls. And this is normal. This is just what they do. It’s infuriating, it kills the mood, and it makes the whole experience horribly impersonal.

There I am, masturbating on the sofa to a sexy news report on obesity, and suddenly I’m left feeling completely empty inside.

Oh, sure, the camera may pan from a meaty foot bulging out of a sandal, to a rippling thigh, to the ample rolls of an abdomen, to a drooping landslide of a chest—but it never, ever makes it past that first fold of neck fat. And if you were hoping to see the deep crevice of a smile break across a lumpy, bread-dough-like face, you can forget it, because it ain’t gonna happen.

Ultimately, I think it’s sort of dehumanizing to depict someone’s hot, heaving cellulite from the neck down only. Maybe it’s just the kind of guy I am, but you can take the most enticingly fat body in the world and, if there isn’t a big roly-poly face attached, it’s not going to do it for me. It’s like jerking off to a giant piece of meat, you know? It just feels wrong.

Give me something to work with, at least! I want to see the expression that’s in the eyes sunken so deep in all that head fat. I want to see labored mouth-breathing as these obese people waddle down the street. And for once I want to vigorously pleasure myself to a story on America’s fast food addiction that shows us a three-quarter-pound triple cheeseburger, then shows us a fat person, and then—without cutting away to some public health statistic—shows the fat person putting the burger in their mouth, taking a generous bite, swallowing it, licking their lips, and maybe washing it all down with an ice cream cone afterward.

I can’t be the only one who feels this way, right? Because I’m getting hard just thinking about it.

With summer on its way, it won’t be long before local news outlets begin to report on the arrival of beach season, and you can be damned sure they won’t hesitate to show us—from head to toe—young, healthy-looking people in swimwear. We’ll see them smiling at the camera and having fun. If watching that sort of thing on the news is what gets you off, hey, that’s great. More power to you.

But ask yourself why that same news team never shows the smile on a face with four or five chins. And then ask yourself whether that’s fair.

I hope, one day, the media will shed this bias in its obesity coverage. Until then, I’ll have to spend my evenings crouching in the bushes outside the window of the fat couple across the street, penis in hand.

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