I noticed this morning I’ve gained some weight in my ass. The bad news…I have a fat ass. The good news…my fat ass helps my waist look smaller.

Skinny Lady left last night and I knew the time had come to step on a scale and determine what kind of damage she caused to my body. Shockingly, rather than turning into a tub of lard (as is usually expected when you get the two of us together), I lost 8 ounces. I’m so proud of Skinny and myself for our commitment to anorexia.

Should I or shouldn’t I grow out my hair? For the longest time, I’ve kept it cropped pretty short but recently I’ve decided to let it grow a bit. Right now I’m in that ball-sucking awkward phase where I somehow manage to get the short, short hairs bobbypinned into the most anorexic of ponytails, a look my husband calls very ninja and which has me wanting to just say fuck it all to hell.  But beyond that there’s the question of added weight. Yes, this is something I’ve thought about considering my hair is exceptionally thick and has the potential to add several ounces, if not full blown pounds to my lately ballooning frame. What should I do? Should I kill myself now for even caring about such trivialities, shave my head bald or continue down the path I’m already on? And if I do continue to allow my hair to grow, how much can I reasonably subtract from the scale for its increasing fatness?

I dreamt last night that my weight shot up to 141, a number my scale hasn’t seen in years. Now I don’t know if that number has some sort of significance for my subconscious mind, but for my conscious mind it signifies nothing but fat, which is probably why I woke up and did something completely out of character – I took myself and my puppy for a run. Then I went bathing suit shopping because apparently one nightmare isn’t enough.

I’m not one of those people who sees clouds lined with silver and glasses half full – you give me a situation, and I’ll not only find that the glass is empty, but it’s cracked too. And that silver-lined cloud? It’s really gray with a barb-wire fringe. This is my natural disposition.

But on Easter Sunday when my puppy broke both bones in her front leg, all of a sudden I caught a glimpse of that elusive silver lining. My friends had invited us over for an Easter feast and contrary to my anorexic impulses, I’m not able to exercise self control in such situations. So naturally I was concerned about the damage I would do. Then my puppy broke her leg. As soon as I had a moment to think, I realized I had just avoided a situation that could easily have led to an immediate 5 lb gain. I was so relieved I almost prayed to Jesus, and I’m not even a Christian. Although now I’m pretty certain I’m going straight to hell for thinking about my weight during a pet emergency.

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

Thank God Oprah Winfrey gives a shit about her weight. Can you imagine if a woman with that much power and influence accepted her body for what it is? It would cause a scary influx of obesity. Thank you, Oprah, for being socially conscious. You’re doing the world a favor by obsessing over your fat.

Like any serious anorexic, I have a digital scale for precision. I also have a daily ritual: I step on the scale, check the weight, step off, then step on again and check the weight a second time. If the number comes out the same both times, then I accept it as my weight for the day. If, however, it comes out different, then I go with the best three out of five. And I’m always hoping it’s the lower number that wins.