Making the most of our eating disorder

My quality of life would improve dramatically if my arms were this skinny. Fuck my fat genes.

I came across this quote the other day -

“Aesthetics have replaced ethics, so that stealing is no longer immoral, but being ugly and fat is”

- and I thought, yep, that sounds pretty reasonable to me.

My close proximity to Hollywood means I’m friends with people who regularly mingle with celebrities. A close friend of mine went to the Grammies on Sunday and told me something that made me more depressed than on the day I was compared to Kim Kardashian. She said that Beyonce Knowles is 5′1″ and skinny.

Does anybody understand why I’m so upset? Because Beyonce looks like a large-boned person with big thighs. I’ve always prided myself on being skinnier than her. If Beyonce actually is skinny, that makes me dangerously obese.

Dear Everyone,

It’s me, Emaciated Lady. I’m so grateful for Skinny, who’s been covering for me in my absence, and I apologize to those who depend on us for a daily dose of cynicism. But I promise you, there’s nothing scarier than a fat anorexic and you’ll thank me someday for keeping my distance. Skinny Lady outed me today and now that you all know I started smoking again, I’m confident that I’ll get skinny in no time and help be your inspiration. In 38 days, Skinny is going to be by my side and I need to impress her with a wardrobe that doesn’t include spandex. Skinny, this is for you.

Oh also, most of my blogging inspiration comes from my ridiculously obese coworker and I feel guilty writing about her because she’s a kind person. And I don’t want to get fired for being a mean bitch.

Kindest Regards,
Emaciated (not so much) Lady

Nothing is more challenging than trying to starve yourself in the face of a bunch of fat, perpetually hungry coworkers.  But I need to be able to fit into my jeans before my visit to Emaciated Lady in March, which means I’ve had no choice save to bring my starvation out into the open at work and dare a mother fucker to ask me to lunch.

Meanwhile on the opposite end of the country, Emaciated Lady has fallen back on her old faithful:  cigarettes. Why? Here’s what she says:

My weight gain was directly correlated to my quitting smoking and I need to get back on the skinny track or else I’ll find other ways to kill myself. Plus everybody needs a vice, right? And because I know I’m going to try and have a baby next year, I don’t have many days of smoking ahead of me.

Dear Emaciated Lady, don’t you know that cigs + pregnancy = low birth weight? Do yourself and your unborn child a favor and smoke for God’s sake.

Below is a picture of Frosty the Snowman’s homeless, illegitimate brother. He cropped up on the street corner the other day after a rare snowstorm. What’s striking about him is not so much his lack of personal hygiene as his complete and total lack of proportion.  That’s why I took his picture – because he reminds me of my own lack of proportion, e.g. a tiny head atop a big, fat body. In other words, Frosty got all the good genes while me and this guy got the fucking shaft.

Emaciated Lady and I don’t usually participate in Facebook status update idiocy because we like to keep our idiocy private, or at the very least anonymous. This is why, while other fools are out there posting profile pics of their supposed celebrity doppelgangers, we’re privately stroking each other’s egos over gchat.

Here’s Emaciated Lady’s most recent attempt at stroking mine: “You officially look like Gisele. I see you all over this picture.”

Unfortunately, this does little for my ego since I know Emaciated is FULL OF SHIT. Seriously, people, I look nothing like this. Emaciated Lady is a liar and I’m a troll.

It’s been 4 days since I’ve had a bowel movement and there’s a pimple on my forehead that resembles a massive malignant  tumor. The last thing I want to deal with is some obese whorebag who feels it necessary to block a doorway while she licks every last molecule of frosting off of a piece of cupcake paper. I know what it’s like to want to have sex with your food, but seriously? In public? Either carry your fat ass to a corner or GET A FUCKING ROOM!