As thick as I use to be 9/10/08 re-post

Today is a high drama day for the SIF. It’s raining here on the Outer Banks. In fact, with the passing of “Hanna” the beaches have been temporarily “Red Flagged” due to the threat of Rip Currents. I have my own version of the“Red Flag” system. This website has been put on permanent "bad weather" alert due to the high threat of binge eating! Think about it...rainy days present serious obstacles for the SIF. You wake up, ready to start fresh with your “new diet” and then…rain. You can’t go outside so why not cook yourself a nice comfort meal like bacon and eggs. Sure! It’s low carb. So you change your old diet to the new diet bcs everyone loves Dr. Atkins! After pouring a vat of grease into your gut, it’s time for a mid-morning nap. After all, cooking is hard work. As you wake from your mid-morning siesta, you peer out the window to make sure the enabling rain is still keeping you down. Score…it’s a down pour! Now what? Mindless television perhaps? Hmmm….better shower first. A bacon smelling weave is the first sign of a SIF. Since we like to roll incognito, a shower it is. Well lookie here…it’s high noon! We all know what that is….Fat Girl Lunch Hour! Out of respect for the sisterhood, you must eat...even if you are not hungry. It's the law. Then Days of Our Lives comes on so it's off to the sofa to see who Stephano is stalking. We all know it's the Brady's but a SIF needs a little drama to settle her stomach. Downfall of drama... it's a prelude to slar phase #2 (nap). By now the sun has emerged but you choose not to acknowledge it. You have planned to be fat and lazy. Nothing will deter you from your mission. It's madness. Glad I got that off my chest. If your rainy days don't "look" like that, you better check out the Skinny Bitch website. They run on their treadmills, eat carrots and pray for sunshine! They are clearly to blame for ruing my rainy day agenda. Luckily I have a job that won't allow me to call in sick for "weather related trauma." In fact, I have to go into a real office and pretend something is going on...that's how mortgage works in 2008. I must say it's hard work. So instead of thinking about the fun I could be having at home, I had a realization.... I am out of control. I know I said that 18 posts ago but rainy days bring revelations to the forefront. This week was the week I would gain back control. My grand master plan for dieting was what I'll call "cut back." No formal take aways just less of the bad stuff. Seemed realistic. By Monday night I had downed about 15 mini Butterfingers. Nectar of the Gods I tell ya. Anyway, they weren't full sized candy bars so I was on track for success. Tuesday I only ate ten. Wed, well I ran out. I may go into convulsions. I think I may be addicted to food...sugar in particular. Do you know anyone who works out 2x a day and then heads for the drive-thru? Allow me to introduce myself! I decided to steer clear of my demons (home) and went to lunch with my friend Sharon. She wanted salad which of course traumatized me. Tell me what's so delicious about a bunch of lettuce with chicken on it when I could wrap that jam in a tortilla, throw in a side of fries and wash it down with a Diet Coke? Oh and don't forget a side of ranch for dipping. If you ask me, same amount of calories. No one really likes salads, do they? Are we rabbits people?! All things considered, I decided to take the plunge. I went against every SIF rule, and ordered a salad. I even got the dressing on the side like the skinny ones do. I ate "it" relatively unenthused. I was hungry like 5 minutes later. There's no convincing me that carbs are the enemy. I had to down 15 pieces of salt water taffy to stop the shakes. Shakes are not so attractive....kinda like the bacon smelling weave. Dead give away to some form of addiction. Here's the other thing....I eat everything as though I will never eat again! I watch people eat salads and it fascinates me. They talk, they take a bite, they hover over the salad, they talk some more... it's a crime is what it is! My food has 4 maybe 5 seconds tops before it's on the fork and headed down the hatch. I don't care what it is...salad, Krispy Kreme...doesn't matter. Well if it was vinegar (sorry Skinegars) I might let it linger. I don't have time for talking. I'm on a mission! Someone needs to call that show Intervention and tell them they are missing a large group of addicts right here on SIF! Next I did what all SIF do when they need some cheering up, I called my Mom. She offered the following motivational statement, "I think you look fine. I've seen you heavier." Somewhere hidden deep within that statement was a compliment. It made me hungry so I went looking for something to eat. If she's seen me heavier I might as well give her a flashback. I thought I would set my trainer up for failure by getting his opinion of my girly figure. (remember I'm a highly active fatty) He told me I was "thick." Tell me, did mother ever prepare you to be called "thick." It's thin minus the "n "add a "ck" but that offers little comfort when you envision men calling you "Thicky Ricardo." In some parts of the ghetto thick is a good thing. Translated loosely by a SIF, it's "I've seen you heavier!" Let's reflect on what I've done right as a "not as heavy as I use to be thick person." I had a salad. I should get an F'n Academy Award for eating that! Yes, I had to act like I liked it. I may have even thrown in "I'm so full. That was great." That was the only good thing I did. The rest of the day I've been sniffing for food like a blood hound on the trail of a triple homicide! There will be blood. No mother I'm not mad at you for calling me not as heavy as I use to be. I prefer lies when possible but your not my husband so I'll let it slide. One day...one day I will buy clothes in the single digits again! Watch out Forever 21...fatties comin!

Nostalgia

I've been going through my old blogs on preparation for the assemblance of my soon to be best selling novel....ughum...and I came across a 2008 blog that made me laugh. I will re-post it for those of you who weren't smart enough to know me back then. Toodles

Dionne Warwick said...."That's what friends are for"

When 2 of my running friends decided to bail on our run and not bother to call (no names... Jen and Tara...ughum)...they thought this peace offering would make up for it! Might I add this sign was posted on the back of their Jeep for all the world to see...


This SIF is officially out of the closet!!

Andrea in the His...ouse!

I have my very own "guest blogger" right here next to me in womb! Yup...she's sitting about 2 feet west of Napoleon Dynamite and due north of my Casierllo del Diablo (that's cellar of the devil for all you non ESL peeps). Andrea is a down home SIF! She's loves some suga and some "suga" if you know what I mean! I've asked her to share some SIF stories from up yonder (which would be PA) so that y'all know eating is not just a Southern disorder....oooookkkay!I'll have you know that on her way to the OBX...she had occasion to pass the infamous PA Turnpike Vegas Style Penitentiary! Even after heeding my blogamous warnings, brave Andrea stopped to take a pee and a peek. Apparently Starbucks is worth dying for even when they stop brewing at 9pm! She ran into some convicts, was denied decaf and safely peed without incident. Sound familiar?

SIF around the globe...we must unite to help Andrea. She is the victim of a violent and unthinkable crime...FOOD THEFT! Yes my people someone stole Andrea's most prized possession...her Italian Cream cake...straight off the boat from....Wal-mart! No sooner did Andrea return home from said Italian bakery and place her most valuable creation on the counter when a food thief appeared ready to make a swap...guilt for pleasure! The worst part...she brought this little heathen into the world....her own child was attempting to make off with the Wally World Cream Cake! Say it aint so! As he removed the cake from the counter he axed, "Did you buy this for me?" ....um yeah...cause SIF are known for sharing! Not! Then he did the unthinkable, "Aren't you on a diet?" "You kiss you mama with that mouth boy!" It was a first degree felony and death would be his sentence. Andrea decided she would bust out SIF rule #1457...when you've already eaten a burger and fries on your diet you should immediately wash it down with Italian Cream Cake. Everyone knows that...except this little felon she calls, "son!" Much like a commoner he pleaded, "So just bcs you messed up you are going to eat cream cake?" Andrea replied, "Yes mother fucker (sorry I took some liberty)...."Yes, I am" was the answer. He went on to tell her that's not how it works. In true SIF style Andrea told this demon from another mother, "Look, I squeezed your 130 pound ass out of hole that's currently not getting alot of attention. Unless you have a solution to that problem, I suggest you pass me the cream cake bitch!" Damn Gina!

Then Andrea did what every SIF does when backed into a corner with Italian Cream Cake from Wal-mart on the line...she asked nicely, begged, and then threatened the little vermin! Let's break that down, "Please give me my cake"... "Give me my cake... I need my cake"... and then "Look, I may not have a period anymore but I still PMS...give me the fuckin cake!" Ouch....do I smell mother of the year or is that Italian Cream Cake?!! Knowing he was defeated, the child she calls "son" relented with one final comment, " Fine but I don't want to hear you talk about being fat again!" Then he exited the residence and she began her quest to conquer said Italian Cream Cake. Was it worth the battle? Hell yeah! She's salivating whilst telling me the story. "Shaved white chocolate, walnuts, thick cream icing"....pause she has to relieve herself after reliving said story. Unfortunately the story has a sad ending...after only 6 helpings, the felonious child and his accomplice re-entered the residence, ate the remaining layers of cake and told said mother in detail of their crime. Make you wanna get a hysterectomy. Me too.

Here's the best part...when someone attempts to steal your joy...be it cake...a man (yeah whatever...I got one with a "Free" sign on him)...what would you do to save face? Here's a more in depth look at Andrea's keen hostage negotiation skills:

"You can keep the cake, I'll just drive back to Wal-mart for another one." Small boy states he will hide car keys.

" I'll just call Aunt Beck and she'll take me to Wal-mart." Small boy states...fine take the cake.

I'd have to say Andrea won by TKO! 2 rounds and that little punk went down! Clearly no match for a SIF. 10 minutes after the criminal left the crime scene, Andrea lept from her bed to eat her victory. MMMMM.

As if I haven't provided enough reasons to stay single, I feel like I've taken a step towards birth control with the help of Andrea. Pregnancy makes you eat, kids steal your food and not for nothing your vajayjay suffers greatly at the hands of men and children... enough! Eat, drink, be merry and if you must have sex...remember this blog and wrap that dog accordingly!

Fat is for lovers....sorry Virginia!

I'm re-working my license plates as we speak. Just when I think fat is "out" and death by donut to be a viable option, television once again saves the day. If you are fat, thick, obese or any combination thereof...I highly recommend you watch the episode of "Taboo" called "Fat."This once again falls into the category of " I can't make this shit up." It's becoming quite a lengthy chapter in my writing career. So I was clicking around trying to find something on TV that would compliment my jelly filled Krispy Kreme, and there it was. A large blond woman with braids, who's clearly the morbidly obese stunt double for "Hedi." ..."The Grandfather" would be none to pleased by the way. From the size of this bitch, one too many HO' HO's went in and not enough"Yo da lay HO-HO's" came out. Buried beneath piles of rubble, was a pretty face. I fear the challenge of unearthing it might be more work than the common man could handle. Apparently not... she not only has a boyfriend...she has a boyfriend who weighs less than I do and she's trained him to say things like, "I really believe this is the best I can do." He really said that....on TV...for everyone to mock. The only upside I could imagine for him would be to turn "Dahmer" on her ass. She would make for quite the feast. You could Ziploc and freeze enough to feed 2 or 3 3rd world countries. My giving soul always shines through.

After picking my jaw up off the floor in order to position it back on my donut, I realized I had to DVR this shit. I needed proof that there was hope for me... after such time that my husband realized I was never going to be the woman he married. Just a large version of something he once banged. Once, being the key word. They say life is a journey not a destination. I say marriage is quite the opposite. As soon as you say, "I do," you have arrived. The journey was short and full of just enough lies to get you to the alter...yeah that was fun. Couldn't have led me to Brad Pitt's house....nope...led me to misery. As it were, I waited years for Brad Pitt to dump Jennifer Aniston. I figured he was waiting just long enough to make the numbers work after that $5 mill wedding, but then I got tired of waiting. So I went to my destination certain they'd stay married forever. I kid you not, literally, the first day of my honeymoon I clicked on the TV (cause that what all people do on their honeymoon) and there it was...."Brad & Jenn separating." I screamed in anger...or maybe that was the fake "O" I had been perfecting for the time frame I'll call "dating"...dunknow. Either way, it set the tone for what was to come....not me and alot of eating. Ok, back to the Fat show....

Did you know there's an official name for fatties throughout the world? Apparently eating is a multi-cultural problem...thus spawned the term "Globesity." I freakin love it! I will name my first born, "Globesity." Her nickname shall be "Beesee." It has a ring to it. According to the kill joys who make up this crap, 2/3 of the US is overweight. Really? Cause I feel so alone in my caloric quest to conquer the world. Even the flippin Chinese have jumped on board...they once boasted little to no obesity...not anymore...1/3 of their peeps are fat and happy! I feel like they could make a comeback if they stopped frying the cats...broiled is the way to go. It takes more than "10 minute" but it's better for you. What do I know...if it aint fried I don't eat it. Mostly bcs I want to make sure it's cooked properly...yeah that's it. Frying kills the ills and I'm OCD so it's medically necessary for me to fry my food...or something. It would seem my SIF have taken over the world. It makes this blog all the more powerful, quite frankly. And we aren't going away. As long as we can get a meal for $5 in less 5 minutes, eat 1400 calories via 1 donut and summons someone to bring almost anything to our door, we will remain SIF...Globesity Goddesses if you will. It's time to wake the inner fatty on the hold outs...Let this serve as your motivation to take your 2/3rds share and turn it into 3/3rds!...I'm no good at math, but I think that's the whole pie. I like pie. I feel like pie could be motivating to this crowd. I'll work on it.

Let me tell you how the Moratimyea's feel about this situation....who are they? I don't know...some peeps in the Middle East who think fat is where it's at! I've secured a one way ticket to their country, fyi. In their culture "skinny" is akin to having 2 heads, 8 legs and a husband who actually does something. Unimaginable. Shame and scandal is brought to your family if your BMI is less than 30. Your status in society is tied to your size....the bigger the better! Fat equals health, wealth and beauty. Amen!! Women must be prepared at a young age to take on a husband....and the husbands want fatties! They use a technique called "gavage" to force feed little girls who think it's cool to be skinny. Where'd they get an idea like that? It's actually borderline child abuse. Watching someone not want to eat was almost as disturbing as watching the forced feedings. Granted they aren't getting takeout from McDonald's, but I'm sure the road kill I saw them gnawing on was quite tasty. I mean....this sounds like the land of milk and honey right? Hold your forks....there's one tidbit of underlying trickery that I have a problem with...they believe that how large you are represents the amount of space you take up in your husbands heart. That's great n all if you are married to someone with enough room to accommodate such a commitment. I however am not. My husband has given his heart to cigarettes and fat back. No room at the Inn. Looks like it's time for a journey to Mortamayea... and a new beau who appreciates a SIF.

As if all this scandal weren't enough...I leave you with the scariest of the scary....the organized fatties. The National Association to Advance Fat Awareness...hide your children. Their members are fat and thin. The fatties are the fatties and the skinnies are called "FA" or Fat Admirers. Picture a dance floor with woman so fat(visual aide- 8 chins, an ass where a gut once was, a couple of vagina's and a few cankles....yummy) they can barely bust a move... and then thin men doing the moon walk around them. This would be a fat mixer. These "fat admirers" admit to being "Bi-sizeual." You kiss your mama with that mouth? Yes. They claim to have a unique ability to just see the person for who they are....underneath layers of molten, wrinkled, festering fat. I may have added that last tidbit. In any event, we all know who they really are. The oddballs who smell like old people, play video games at 45 and think the Simpson's deserve and Academy Award. As a fatty I think we need to recruit some more viable candidates to the group. I plan to email Brad Pitt after I finish this and tell him his services are needed at NATAFA. He saved New Orleans...surely he can save the fatties. Not to mention he owes me. That whole..."I'll never leave Jenn" incident has cost me valuable years of sex. I haven't decided how to get rid of all those crumb snatchers he acquired...perhaps I'll take them to a NATAFA and tell the fatties they are Kabobs. Or I could send them to Mortamiyea...I think at least 2 of them are from there anyway. If he would agree to all of that, I can take him places Angelina won't go...literally.