Despondent Fat Refuses to Commit Suicide

So, I've taken to titling my blogs as though they were important news. I expect my career in journalism to take off any second now. All I have to do is suck the life out of my writings and present them to the public as news and a snooze. I may have already done that, actually.
I'm thinking of starting an exercise routine. I probably haven't had an exercise routine since, jeez, I'm not sure when. I did Tao-Bo once for like 6 months straight and nothing happened other than an unflattering photo of me punching invisible airbags in the living room. Oh, and an unfortunate predilection for leg warmers and yelling "double-time!!!" every now and then. When I realized that I wasn't going to "win" the "exercise race" and become the fittest, most attractive person on earth, me and my fat fell despondant. I thought if I insulted it enough it would just end it's own life, but instead, it appears to be weaving a basket on my stomach. Or maybe the fat basket is my stomach. But, I'd rather separate myself from the fat and pretend like it's just a prop. A snap-on accessory for the self-hating doll. I'm not fat, I'm wearing a fat vest. And a triglyceride anklet. Oh, and two basketball halves of fat for an ass. I'm like a combination plate of fat.
So, I've begun thinking about exercise, but this produces new worries. The acceptablity of my current fat hinges on it's favorable distribution. I'm lucky that all my fat hasn't congregated in one hideous area, causing the rest of my body to look freakishly disproportionate. What happens if I start to exercise, though? Will there be a rueful reapportioning, like someone squeezed a water balloon? If I do, say, crunches, will my stomach fat just pull up stakes and head to my waist? I'm uncomfortable even using words like "crunches". And I don't run. Running is out of the question. If I jump up and down, I'm sure the downstairs neighbors will be appreciative. Gyms are terrifying and would require the purchase of clothes to work out in. Who's going to finance my weight loss? That's what I want to know.
Besides, it makes me giggle thinking about ME exercising. Only, when I giggle, I jiggle, which brings me back 'round from amused to disgusted again. Life is a painful roller coaster filled with frozen pizza's and pecan pies and greedy landlords that won't let you break your lease even if you find a much better place and they don't really need your rent money anyway.
I should just move out and leave my fat behind. Good luck getting my fat to pay rent, greedy landlord.
Harumph!