Posts from — September 2009

God I love these skinny bitches.

I thought nothing would horrify me more than watching the obese gorge themselves on fast food. Turns out, watching a movie about obese women being force-fed to death is worse. A friend of Random Anorexics was kind enough to tell us about the 2005 thriller Feed, which I plan to watch (for research sake) as soon as I find enough energy to login to my Netflix queue.

Even though I have yet to actually see the film, the trailer was enough to make me gag and giggle simultaneously as A. I’m unabashedly disgusted by really fat people and B. I’m a huge fan of horror films.

Apparently, the feeder sees himself as some sort of vigilante by forcing these women to reject society’s standards of thinness. I’ve got a brilliant idea. How about we stop worrying so much about the fucking standards of beauty imposed by society and start worrying about the health dangers of obesity like DEATH. Why doesn’t anyone give a shit about society’s standards of health?

My dangerously obese friend has done it again. He who once compared God’s love to bacon posted this recent status update on a social networking site:

Nutella equals clear evidence that God exists and loves me.

I’m desperate to tell this lost soul that if there were a God, I’d hope he’d be compassionate enough to eradicate world hunger than hide out in a tub of Nutella or pig fat.

There are few things worse than spending Labor Day weekend surrounded by twenty-somethings who do nothing but lift weights and eat lean chicken breasts all year to get in shape for the summer holidays. If you’ve never been to Vegas or Palm Desert, consider this a warning. The average BMI is 18 and the average person is a douchebag who enjoys standing waist deep in a pool for seven hours sipping Mojitos and hoping to get laid — in the pool.

I thought my weekend of feeling like the fattest person on the planet was over, but I’ll tell you it was a real self-esteem booster going to the beach with my brother and his truly emaciated girlfriend yesterday. She’s naturally skinny in that perfect “I don’t even need to try” way. The kind of creature who’s stomach has never seen a roll and her thighs are completely void of cellulite. I spent the afternoon chugging mimosas in hopes that I would become too intoxicated to consider killing myself. When I complained to Extra Large Man that I’d never felt fatter in my life, he replied “Honey, every body type is different.”

I nearly killed him with my cheap bottle of Korbel. The moral of the story: don’t get married and vacation in Samoa.

A likely obese radio host was talking about the fat bachelor show, essentially exonerating fat people of any responsibility for their condition, and in a complete non-sequitur she asserted, “Anorexia is obviously a psychological disorder.” Oh really? Really? Because I was thinking my thing for protruding bones and severe malnutrition was normal. Now I know better. Thank you, radio host lady, for your brilliant and insightful commentary.

As is our custom, my husband and I went to dinner on Friday night and indulged in a monstrous feast. Almost without fail, we end up with a server who has some kind of opinion about the amount we order and our ability to finish it. This Friday’s dinner out was no exception.

When I placed my order, the waitress inquired, incredulously and a little concerned, if this was a dish I had ever ordered before. The reason she asked, she explained, was because it’s quite a giant serving. “DUH, YOU STUPID BITCH. DON’T I FUCKING LOOK HUNGRY TO YOU?” was what I almost said, but I bit my tongue and told her that I knew it was a lot and my skinny ass husband was going to help me eat it, which he did.

Just as we finished everything up, she stopped by again, but this time she was applauding us, like actually clapping her hands applauding and congratulating us on our “nice work.” I almost kicked that whore in her fat kneecaps for drawing such unnecessary attention to my food consumption. I’ll bet fat fuckers don’t get applauded when they finish their meals.

I can finally say I’ve had my moment of fame, and I emphasize the word moment here – a brief flicker of the back of my head appeared on the local news. So excited was I by my media debut that I sent the video clip to all of my friends and family (which amounts to about 4 people).  Not surprisingly, I wanted some validation as to how I looked since tv is supposed to add 10 lbs. Well, one of my friends responded to the my fear of looking fat with the following:

Your head never looked skinnier.

How sweet, right? Unless he meant  it as a backhanded way of saying I have a narrow brain. Whatever. As long as some part of me is being referred to as skinny, I’ll take it as a compliment.

“My privates are so not worth upkeeping.”

– Skinny Lady’s reaction to my appointment for a Brazilian bikini waxing.