Category — Fat Whore

Humidity is an evil thing. I can always tell the precise amount of water vapor in the air based on how my watch fits in the morning. Today when I went to put on my watch, I felt like I was in an Amazonian jungle strapping an anaconda on my arm. Just look at how swollen my wrist is.

Emaciated Lady has a knack for accurately judging describing people. Just the other day she likened one of our former coworkers to an upside down tv. It was one of the most apt descriptions ever, and one that I think also applies to me. Please see the picture below. Emaciated Lady took it while I was visiting her last week.

I am disgustingly fat and ugly.  My jeans don’t fit. My fingers are dirty from picking the chocolate off of peanut m&m’s, and I care so little about life that I would rather dirty my keyboard with sticky candy gunk than wash my hands. This is how I feel today.

I return from not eating lunch to find a tiny white box wrapped in a pink ribbon sitting innocently on my desk.

Turns out the fucking box wasn’t so innocent. A pregnant (a.k.a. fat and jealous) coworker decided this was a proper way to send a thank you note for attending her baby shower.

I haven’t worn my wedding ring this week. Not because I can’t stand my husband (which has prompted ringless fingers several times in the past), but because it doesn’t fit. Yes everyone. I’ve turned into the girl with fat fingers. At this point, I’d rather be divorced as it is a legitimate reason to not wear jewelry. I have since ordered diet pills online and anxiously await their arrival on March 1.

After a miserable work function this afternoon, I thought I’d treat myself to food for lunch. I chose to go to an organic pizza place where I ordered a personal-size multigrain thin crust pizza with vegan rice cheese. The waitress told me I was a “champion” as she picked up my empty plate, but immediately realized how insensitive her comment was, so she followed it up with “you look great babe.” I can’t decide which is worse. Being called fat or babe.

My quality of life would improve dramatically if my arms were this skinny. Fuck my fat genes.

Dear Everyone,

It’s me, Emaciated Lady. I’m so grateful for Skinny, who’s been covering for me in my absence, and I apologize to those who depend on us for a daily dose of cynicism. But I promise you, there’s nothing scarier than a fat anorexic and you’ll thank me someday for keeping my distance. Skinny Lady outed me today and now that you all know I started smoking again, I’m confident that I’ll get skinny in no time and help be your inspiration. In 38 days, Skinny is going to be by my side and I need to impress her with a wardrobe that doesn’t include spandex. Skinny, this is for you.

Oh also, most of my blogging inspiration comes from my ridiculously obese coworker and I feel guilty writing about her because she’s a kind person. And I don’t want to get fired for being a mean bitch.

Kindest Regards,
Emaciated (not so much) Lady