“I’m pretty much the same as you, minus the buffet.”

– 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.

“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.

“I don’t want to waste life by living it.”

– Me, summing up my existential philosophy to my husband.

“You really do want to turn into a fat pig.”

– My beloved husband, Skinny Man, who must sound like the biggest asshole on Earth but who has the challenging task of curbing my appetite for ice cream cake and bon bons.

I’ve been really good about being nice to fat people too.

– Emaciated Lady, on being a better person.

Yesterday morning at the gym, I ran into a guy who used to work out when I do, but for a couple of months had been exercising in the evenings due to a work-schedule change. He said, “I can tell you’ve been working hard since I’ve been gone–looking really ripped. Keep it up!” In those few words approximately 6-8 months of therapy vanished like smoke in the wind. Not only was it proof that people really do pay close attention to my body, but it was evidence that I will be accepted and loved if I continue to over-exercise.

– contributed by Crazy D., our equally f***ed up friend and greatest supporter.

Is she developing a second chin? That’s fucked up, man. Not Heather Locklear!

– My skinny ass husband, betraying a secret crush while watching this cheesy movie on Lifetime.

I don’t eat four-legged animals, but I eat birds, I eat cheese, I eat dessert, I eat everything.

- Gwyneth Paltrow, a lying whore who deserves to be bitch-slapped by Oprah.