– Me to Emaciated Lady, who had just confessed her recent non-anorexic eating habits, the worst of which is her newfound love of lunch buffets. This comment was my not-so-successful attempt at empathy.

I have 8 days to lose 100 lbs. Do you think I can do it?

I was expecting a supportive reply. Maybe a little encouragement along the lines of, “Don’t even think about coming here looking like a fat ass or else I won’t take you out in public!” Or even something like, “I’m right there with you – let’s make it a contest to see who can get to zero first!” But what I got instead was this:

I hate you! Don’t you dare lose a single lb. I can’t be fat alone.

How’s that for a bff?

– Emaciated Lady, a ridiculously skinny bitch, to me.

Dear Hershey’s,

We have been friends for a long time you and I. You have been there for me through everything in my life and I really appreciate it. We have laughed and cried together often. You have always been there to go grab a coke and take a ride with me anytime I have needed you. Thanks for keeping my secrets when I have cheated on ALL of my past diets! You were there when I was little and  I used to save my dimes and nickels  just to run across the street and buy your chocolate heavenly goodies. I would bet there hasn’t been more than 2 consecutive days in my 36 years that I have not eaten something you have magically created. Well I guess it would be 34 because I couldn’t eat solid food for the first 1-2 years of my life.

You are the perfect solution to happiness, sadness, divorce, marriage, pregnancy, depression, celebration and boredom. The only thing that you are not perfect for is weight loss! Oh how I have enjoyed your Hugs and Kisses…I believe I will be going through withdrawals from your hugs. Without a doubt your hugs are my addiction. I am actually eating the rest of my last bag today   So starting tomorrow I will not be buying you any longer. Please don’t take it personally…it’s not you it’s me. I am carrying you with me everywhere I go. You are in my heart, on my butt, bulging out of my stomach and hips, you even gave me an extra chin to remember you by.                                           

Hugs and Kisses to you… XOXOXOXO

I want to confess that Jane and I shared a giant chocolate strudel from Extraordinary Desserts yesterday (we actually walked in the rain that’s how desperate we were) and I ate so much of it that I felt nauseous. I’m actually eating myself sick at this point. Like a shameless obese person. I’m spinning out of control and I don’t want to get back in control. What should I do?

You know what you should do, Emaciated Lady? Quit acting like a shameless obese person in public. That’s our special private thing.

I keep reminding myself that you’ll love me even if I’m fat.

A sweet sentiment but sadly erroneous. This statement reveals the same false sense of security that causes so many of us in relationships to gain weight. The truth is, Emaciated Lady, I won’t love you if you’re fat. I can’t, otherwise I’d be doing us each a disservice.

Like any true love, my love for you is conditional. I’d die before I went public with a fat bff, and I’d expect you do the same for me. It’s that kind of conditional love that keeps our friendship alive. So please, let’s be friends – not through thick and thin, but through thin and thinner. 

Here’s the thing: When I order edamame at a sushi restaurant, it’s for me and me alone. Eating is a rare and guilty pleasure, and I want to savor every moment of it. Down to the last fucking bean.

So, no, I’m not ordering for the table to share. And don’t even think about grabbing for a bean with your dirty ass hands. I don’t care if you’re a starving refugee. You might get slapped. Even my husband knows better than to touch my food.