Posts from — October 2009

Last weekend I went to LA to celebrate my cousin’s birthday. All was well until Sunday when I saw photos of the previous night. I know the camera adds a lot of pounds, but in one photo in particular, I looked exactly like my mother when she was 12 months pregnant with me. You would’ve sworn I was carrying an extra large fetus. As disturbing as the image was, I’m trying to be positive and in this case that photo has motivated me to skip dinner every night since. I’m framing it. There’s nothing like a fat picture to help me get skinny.

It’s decided. I’m never washing my clothes again. Clothes fresh from the wash are too tight, which is all fine and good when you’re a skinny bitch. But I’ve let myself go to shit, so I need clothes that are stretched from the wearing. Now I’m not only fat, but I stink too. I hate to sound cliche, but seriously, fuuucccccccck my life.

I need one of these…wait I’m sober.

Skinny Man and I live near the local homeless shelter, which happens to be right across from the grocery store. (Somewhere out there is an urban planner with an ironic sense of humor.) Anyway, I was in the mood for an ice cream cake last night, so I ventured past the shelter to the store where I came THIS close to grabbing one of everything before deciding on a half gallon of “light” ice cream, a giant cannoli and a container of store-made banana pudding.

Bag of goodies in hand, I stood on the corner waiting, like the law-abiding citizen I am, for the signal to cross. Then someone started whistling and shouting, “Hey!!” I couldn’t help but look to see who was yelling, and I realized some homeless man was beckoning me to come his way. Maybe he saw that I was about to binge and he wanted to stop me, or maybe he wanted to know my secret for eating such crap and yet still managing to remain thin. If I were a good samaritan, I would’ve gone over and just handed him the goods. But I’m not a good samaritan. I’m a stingy, binge-eating bitch and he was out of luck.

Yesterday, I had lunch with some coworkers and in bad taste, admitted to them that I’m decidedly obese. One of the fat girls yelled that there was no way I was 100 pounds overweight. I told her that technically, you’re considered obese if you’re 30 pounds over your ideal weight. I’ve never seen a person’s face fall so quickly. It was like I told her she was dying. Now I feel bad.

Note: Fortunately, I’m not actually obese. Unfortunately, I’m at a healthy weight.

Last week I decided I was officially obese so on Monday I made a severe lifestyle change: No more wine or almond butter. However, I am allowing myself five almonds in the mornings and three alcoholic beverages of my choice on Saturday. A girl has to indulge every once in a while. I know I’m always crying sobriety, but this time it’s true. Drunkorexia will have to wait until I’m a size 0 again.

“I just broke up with carbs foreverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.”

Kitty, in her excitement over winning our birthday giveaway. We can only hope she means it because god knows we can’t have any fat bitches walking around in our t-shirt.

I just got a call from a charity asking me to donate my clothes to the starving people throughout the world.
 
I told them to fuck off!!
 
Anybody who fits into my clothes isn’t starving…