I just had an interesting conversation with my wife about chunkies. We discussed chunkies at some length. Who they are, and what they mean to me. You see, I don’t have anything against overweight people. I am one myself. Many of us struggle to fit a certain ideal or physical model, for all sorts of reasons.

Some of us want to be hot. Some of us want to be more healthy. Some of us don’t want to pay extra for double XL sizes. Whatever. It is not easy having a lame-ass metaboloism or [insert other excuse for not being slim, muscular and physically perfect).

So, no, I don’t hate overweight people. I do, however, hate chunkies. You will notice that when disparaging these peeps who should be spending more time reading fat burner reviews and less time in trans fat country I am using some of my favorite code words. Chunky is the big one (unavoidable pun).

A chunky is often, though certainly not always, female. A chunky is absurdly overweight with no sign of muscle tone anywhere on his or her body. A chunky is frequently tattoed, though this is not a requirement. A chunky wears inappropriate clothes, often excessively revealing. A chunky will usually display great attitude…my wife described it thusly: they think they’re all that and a bag of chips and then they eat the chips.

Chunkies can often be labeled as trashy, or white trash, or trailer trash. They can be very easily compared to pizza dough or the Stay-Puft Marshmallow man. They curse a lot, smoke a lot, drive crappy cars poorly and think people who drink Bud Light are snobs.

It is not the weight problem that I dislike. It is the attitude of the individuals who share these traits. And so I say this: Don’t hate the player. Hate the game. The chubby, chubby game.