Not gonna read all that, but for everyone involved:
You will never be beautiful. You have too much fat, too little muscle, you sweat buckets just from trying to get off your chair and grab another back of cheetos. You are a morbidly obese woman brainwashed by twitter and your own terminal laziness into believing that your marshmellow man looks are somehow pretty.
All the “validation” you get is two-faced and half-hearted. Behind your back people mock you. Your parents are disgusted and ashamed of you, your “friends” laugh at the literal greaseball rolling alongside them behind closed doors.
Men are utterly repulsed by you. Thousands of years of evolution have taught men to avoid minor planetoids made of pig grease that'll die of a heart attack in their fifties, their vaginas hidden behind a small mountain range worth of blubber. Even in the event you somehow manage to entrap a drugged up and possibly comatose man, he’ll turn tail and bolt the second he gets a whiff of the odor of sugar, fried meat and burned fat that follows you wherever you go.
You will never be happy. You wrench out a fake smile every single morning and tell yourself it’s going to be ok, but deep inside you feel the depression creeping up like a weed, ready to crush you under the unbearable weight like your rotund shape is crushing the shoes that no longer fit your misshapen feet.
Eventually it’ll be too much to bear - you’ll buy a rope, tie a noose, put it around your neck, and plunge into the cold abyss, taking the entire roof with you as you crash through three floors and end up splattered across the basement. Your parents will find the pool of nutritious fat that used to be you, feeding the strays of the entire neighbourhood. They'll be heartbroken but relieved that they no longer have to live with the unbearable shame and disappointment. All that will remain of your legacy are a few hundred remarkably well fed strays.
This is your fate. This is what you chose. There is no turning back.