Making the most of our eating disorder

Uggs are quite likely the least flattering fashion trend ever and yet, nearly a decade past their prime, I see the ugly beasts everywhere I turn. So this is a note to all the bitches who still think Uggs are cool: They make your legs look fat.  That’s right, skinny girls. Uggs make you look like you’ve got cankles. And if you’re legs are already thick, then you’re just making a bad situation worse. I say better to go fucking barefoot.

I haven’t worn my wedding ring this week. Not because I can’t stand my husband (which has prompted ringless fingers several times in the past), but because it doesn’t fit. Yes everyone. I’ve turned into the girl with fat fingers. At this point, I’d rather be divorced as it is a legitimate reason to not wear jewelry. I have since ordered diet pills online and anxiously await their arrival on March 1.

Please, people, please make sure to flush twice after you drop a load in a public bathroom. I’m not trying to be crude. It’s just that floaters can totally ruin someone’s day, particularly if that someone happens to be the jealous, starving type in need of a serious bowel movement or twelve.

There was no avoiding a night out with the friends this week. I had postponed three times already – one more cancellation would have rendered me a total bitch and I prefer to be just 97 percent bitch. So the three of us headed to a Thai restaurant, where  I ordered garlic tofu over cabbage and my two friends ordered noodle dishes. 

No more than sixty seconds after my food was placed in front of me it was gone.  This is me snorting my dinner through a straw:

Meanwhile, an hour and a half later, my two friends are still picking away at their noodles, both of them eventually opting for a doggy bag to take home their half unfinished plates.

You know, I was trying not to be a bitch. But this is the type of shit that puts me over the edge, and those whorebags are lucky I’m nice enough to keep their faces out of my drawing.

“It’s not like I’m eating out of control…I’m drinking out of control.”

– Emaciated Lady on being a drunkorexic

I’ve been starving myself for the past two weeks, and the anorexic me had totally forgotten what a bitch the fat me is. That is until this morning when I found these on my desk. Apparently I placed the order back when I was eating everything within a 100 mile radius.  I hate myself, but not nearly as much as I do the little crack dealer who sold them to me.

In honor of Valentine’s day, Skinny Man took me shopping for a new bra and panty set.  Sounds sweet, right? WRONG. Not because of anything Skinny Man did, but because I had to buy the panty in a size large.  Um, if this ↓ is a size large…

…then what the fuck is THIS?

After a miserable work function this afternoon, I thought I’d treat myself to food for lunch. I chose to go to an organic pizza place where I ordered a personal-size multigrain thin crust pizza with vegan rice cheese. The waitress told me I was a “champion” as she picked up my empty plate, but immediately realized how insensitive her comment was, so she followed it up with “you look great babe.” I can’t decide which is worse. Being called fat or babe.