Posts from — February 2009

More. The one word motto of my life, the force that pushes the blood through my shallow American veins, the ethos that threatens to undo me, the enemy of control, the never enough. More food, more bread, more fries, more chocolate, more purses, more shoes, more jeans, more money, more drink, more friends, more love, more hugs, more this, more that, more. Just more.

Suppressing the appetite is key to having a successful career as an anorexic, but the appetite is not easily suppressed. I’ve found that what works best for me are natural appetite suppressants, and I don’t mean so-called natural supplements like hoodia and green tea extract. Those are scams and you’re an idiot if you fall for them. What I mean by natural appetite suppressant is exposure to any of the following:

• Animal excrement, namely cat puke and dog shit
• Discovery channel features on the morbidly obese
• The smell of other people
• Bugs of any kind
• Gout or goiter
• Ungroomed toenails
• Botched plastic surgery
• Ugly people
• Stupid people

My mother just emailed me this link, which clearly illustrates where my eating disorder/weight obsession comes from. Thanks Mom!

Note: The email included nothing but the link.

The following conversation ensued when Skinny Lady sent me this link. Please note that Stache = code name for my extremely obese coworker.

Emaciated Lady: You want to know what my Starbucks Oracle said?

Personality type: Fat. You’re always worrying about your weight. That’s because you’re fat. You’re constantly whining about problems that are your own fault. You are a total pain in the ass.

Emaciated Lady:  Please tell me the Oracle said that about your weight too. It’s going to give me a complex.                                                                              Skinny Lady:  It’s so wrong because real fat people drink frappucinos and don’t give a fuck
Emaciated Lady:  I’m going to type in Stache’s drink and see what it says…You are going to DIE when I paste Stache’s Oracle prediction.

Personality type: Either you can’t type or you mumble incoherently. If you actually walked into Starbucks and said you wanted a “venti caramel frappuccino with extra caramel and whipped cream” the employees would point and laugh. A reaction you’re probably used to. Try again, this time input something that Starbucks actually serves.

Emaciated Lady: Her order is so unbelievable, the Oracle doesn’t even believe it

Anyone who knows Skinny Lady knows her obsession with sugar, namely in the form of frosting. The other night, Extremely Large Man mumbled, “Where’s Skinny Lady when you need her,” after realizing he made way too much frosting for the cupcakes that almost killed me.

My entire Valentine’s Day weekend revolved around food because I obviously have an eating disorder. Extremely Large Man and I had a cookathon. He cooked for me on Saturday and I for him on Sunday. Then we judged whose meal was better. I won two out of three courses. But he was sweet enough to make me red velvet cupcakes, which are my absolute favorite. It almost cost me my life though. Yesterday, I stuffed one down my throat whole causing me to almost choke to death. I wish I was trying to be funny, but it was a serious, life-threatening moment and all I could think was how mortifying it would be if I actually died from a cupcake.

I don’t eat four-legged animals, but I eat birds, I eat cheese, I eat dessert, I eat everything.

- Gwyneth Paltrow, a lying whore who deserves to be bitch-slapped by Oprah.

At the request of a loyal reader, I’ve decided to start a new series of posts called “What Would Skinny Lady Do?” For the inaugural post, Crazy D. has submitted the following question:

Dear Skinny Lady,
 
My sweetheart gave me Godiva truffles for Valentine’s Day. This was very nice of her, except that now I’m a porcine wad. What should I say to her to express both my appreciation and my contempt for her gift?

Dear Crazy,

I highly doubt that you are a “porcine wad,” as you so eloquently suggest. But to answer your question, you should tell your sweetheart exactly what I told my mother, who insisted on being my Valentine (despite my protests and the fact that I already had one) and forced on me a bag of Rolo candies, a bag of dark chocolate Hershey’s Kisses, a tub of Nutella and a loaf of Hawaiian sweet bread - I told her, “Thank you. Now please excuse me while I go eat myself fat and die.”