It’s official. My day job will kill me. Whether it’s from the exorbitant amount of pressure or from the calories, I will die shortly. After running around with my balls cut off the last few days, my boss offers me a reward — a mini chocolate brownie Cliff Bar that was included in his shipment of outdoor goods from REI. I’m eating it.

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?

“You make death sound like such an ugly thing.”

– Me, in response to my friend Crazy D, who was trying to lift me out of a morbid slump by highlighting the dark side of death, namely that dead bodies bloat (the horror!) and stink.

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.

Cigarettes could be an anorexic’s best friend. Unfortunately we live in the 21 Century and nicotine has a bad rap. I, however, will always defend smoking because as far as I’m concerned there are other things more harmful, like obesity. And now, finally, I feel completely validated.

A new study cites obesity as more harmful to the heart than smoking. I could kiss those researchers for telling it how it is. I understand that lung cancer is one of the leading causes of death blah blah blah, but so is obesity and in this case, cigarettes win.

The moral of the story: I’d rather smoke to stay skinny than eat and be fat.