As a child Null lived near of restaurant that would class itself as being horrifically unhealthy. Its menu, its ads, even the windows, all adorned with horrible unhealthy slogans.
Because of this, his family would never eat there, not wanting to harm themselves or their small child. Though this never stopped poor Null from wishing he could taste such tantalizing grease and fat. There came a time when he would sneak away from his family around dinner time, having already eaten but still being dreadfully hungry, and make his way to the restaurant. There he would sit and look in the window, watching people gorge themselves on unhealthy side dishes and entrees, jowls glistening with oils and foreheads with sweat.
Young Null grew to associate these things with his undying interest in the restaurant, the fat people instead becoming the focus of his time there at the window rather than the food. The women were so vile and disgusting, but alas he found himself infinitely interested in their eating habits and his time watching them converse with one another.
Eventually the young Null would grow up into a slightly less young version of Null, one who could no longer spend time looking in the window, as the business had sadly gone under. He took this as a sign that his time in his home town was over, his interests having drawn him elsewhere in the world. Interests he would pretend were related to an interest in travel, or jobs he would like to take. But in reality there was a yearning in his heart, a soft and fat sounding voice on the wind, calling him from thousands of miles away.
The fatties were calling him. He needed them like he needed oxygen.
His life had changed so much since those days. He had a successful podcast and website. He was feeding birds and planting peppers. Yet on that very podcast he would let slip that he loved the meaty sausage fingers of fat ladies by repeatedly covering them. He would show them to his disgusted audience again and again, until they would simply classify it as some strange interest of his.
It was, but he couldn't admit to it.