So here’s the scene: My mom is in a hospital bed, post-heart attack. My aunt, my sister and myself are all there to keep her company and the conversation is casual enough. My sister is talking about how much my niece resembles me, which she does, except that she’s a twig at 17 and I was a little on the chubby side at that age. I make this distinction, and my aunt says, “You’ve never been fat or had meat on your bones.” I love her for saying this, but I object with “It’s true, I was chubby.”

Then my mom, who might I remind you is at this point lucky to be alive, somehow finds the energy to weigh in on the conversation. Looking at my aunt, she proclaims, “She was fat!” Then she looks at me and exclaims, “Remember that gold dress picture? You were fat.”

I’m not sure where things went from there because in that moment I was mortified by two facts: One, that I ever owned anything gold, especially a dress; Two, that my mom emphasized the word “fat,” when I clearly preferred to use “chubby,” which truly is more accurate.

Thanks, Mom, for not letting me trick anyone into thinking I’ve always been skinny. I owe you one.

The following conversation ensued when Skinny Lady sent me this link. Please note that Stache = code name for my extremely obese coworker.

Emaciated Lady: You want to know what my Starbucks Oracle said?

Personality type: Fat. You’re always worrying about your weight. That’s because you’re fat. You’re constantly whining about problems that are your own fault. You are a total pain in the ass.

Emaciated Lady:  Please tell me the Oracle said that about your weight too. It’s going to give me a complex.                                                                              Skinny Lady:  It’s so wrong because real fat people drink frappucinos and don’t give a fuck
Emaciated Lady:  I’m going to type in Stache’s drink and see what it says…You are going to DIE when I paste Stache’s Oracle prediction.

Personality type: Either you can’t type or you mumble incoherently. If you actually walked into Starbucks and said you wanted a “venti caramel frappuccino with extra caramel and whipped cream” the employees would point and laugh. A reaction you’re probably used to. Try again, this time input something that Starbucks actually serves.

Emaciated Lady: Her order is so unbelievable, the Oracle doesn’t even believe it

Unless you’re living in some third world nation without water, tv and an Internet connection, then you’re likely aware of this week’s breaking news: Jessica Simpson is fat. Though I’m a staunch advocate of skinny, I’m less concerned about her extra 10 lbs than I am about:

• the fashion statement she’s making
• our unsustainable lifestyle choices
• oil company’s soaring profits despite the recession
• corporate bonuses
• starving children
• the U.S. healthcare crisis
• war and crimes against humanity
• a zillion other more important things

Apparently, fat used to be cute. And they didn’t even charge you extra for it.

Every single time I put a morsel of food in my mouth I wonder how many people I’ll alienate with my fat. Like just now - after eating veggies and artichoke dip, a string cheese, a Lindor truffle, some chocolate from Starbucks and two huge spoonfuls of Nutella, I felt compelled to confess my lapse to Emaciated Lady to see if she would still love me. Fortunately, she’s as eating disordered as I am. But now the rest of you see me for the real me. I’m no anorexic. I’m a fraud, and a fat one at that.

My puppy’s getting fat.

- said upon hearing that my puppy’s weight has jumped from 4.4 to 4.7 lbs.

“My face looks fat in that picture.” When I say things like this, I’m not expecting someone to contradict me because, in truth, even if you think I’m skinny, I’m still going to think I’m fat. It’s more of an observation, an exclamation even. My husband has heard these words a million times, so when I said them today, he just kept his mouth shut. My mom, on the other hand, of all the possible responses she could have made (including no response at all, which is always the most preferable), said: I’m going to throw you away.

Thanks, Mom. I love you too.

I hope you get fat.

- said to my husband after discovering he finished off the Nutella.