Crab Rat...

If you have ever wondered just how food obsessed one person can truly be, today's rant will surely bring it home. About two years ago I had an allergic reaction to something that we'll call "shellfish." They stole my blood, stuck me with about a million needles only to see that "on paper" I am not in fact allergic to "shellfish." So where does that leave me? "Well, you better not eat it just to be on the safe side. Oh and carry this giant needle with you just in case we're wrong!" I'm not a big fish eater but like most women when you tell me that I can't have something I want it more. Since this incident, I've spent the last two years watching my husband slurp buttery crab and suck salty lobster meat like a cannibal. I decided to weigh my options...die eating crab or become a land lover? Of course I did the right thing and chose life...until today.

Today I took my fat ass to the doctor accompanied by a plate of shrimp, crab and lobster. Before you get all excited...there was no salty butter for dipping, no Old Bay waffling through the air and no cocktail sauce for dunking! No this was plain old steamed shellfish at 9am that was quickly getting cold. Yum eee. My allergist agreed to supervise my immanent death in 10 minute intervals. That's a bite of shrimp....wait 10 minutes...another bite wait 10 minutes....another bite and then 15 minutes of waiting in between the various crustaceans. As I sat alone in the very aesthetically white room for 3 hours I had alot of time to think. My first thought..Was is wise to joke with my husband that he would be accused of murder upon my passing bcs he in fact cooked my death meal this morning? Probably not. I offered to leave him a suicide note but he was more concerned with the amount of life insurance I was carrying. Can't wait to see his face when I come home tonight fully intact swinging my shrimp! Can't get rid of me that easy sucka!

Now that the jury was in on my possible death, I was back to thinking again. It doesn't get much scarier than that. Do you know what it's like to sit there and wait for something to happen?. A random itch, a hive, a gasp for air? Nothing! Just alot of me terrorizing people via text message while eating cold shellfish. I read every magazine in the joint and lived out every patients fantasy...I played doctor! Minus the part where there's a naked guy and I order a full body search. I grabbed that tool that magnifies everything it's pointed at bcs it was in arms reach and I thought I could grab it without too much of a stir. Hint...do not point these sorts of tools at the butt and thigh areas. That alone causes lack of air, itching and hives!Bored with that after three minutes, I went looking for a prescription pad in hopes that I could score some Zanex. No luck.

I left there about noon beat down, hive free and starving! I leave you with my final thought, "A good plate of seafood...$19.95, a steak topped with lobster...$29.99, giving up your life for shellfish....completely useless! So I ask you this, "Why can't we be allergic to the things that matter...like chocolate and fried chicken" Stay tuned...

Weekend Warrior

The title would imply someone with strength who chooses to save the world on their day off. Let me make one thing very clear, that's not me! I like to be as lazy as humanly possible on the weekends. That laziness is often accompanied by a round of guilt so I'll do something crazy like... mow the lawn. It keeps my husband from thinking I'm a fat slob and in my mind brings me one step closer to earth shattering sex. Disclaimer...the latter of that last statement has yet to happen. Sorry Mom....I do the nasty! Anywho, most weekends require me to go into full on battle mode. Against what you ask? Hmmmm....this blog is all about dysfunctional eaters so take a stab at it! My weekdays are very scheduled and militant thus keeping me on track with my eating for the most part. You may be amazed to know that I work out quite alot during the week. Of course this is just to build up the ole' calorie bank so that I have a good excuse to eat french fries when the mood strikes. Always in the mood, fyi. When Friday hits I have to pre-plan the battle that is the weekend. Junk food is my war on terrorism. Instead of bombs & sleeper cells I battle "weapons of my destruction"... donuts and fried food.

Yes, I am slowly killing myself via Krispy Kreme and McDonalds. Monday through Friday I have the will to be that someone who can make it through an entire week without eating something bad. I see this"someone" everyday. She's thin, hot and resembles me except for the thin part. I reach for her but instead of throwing me her hand she throws me a Big Mac! Ungrateful whore. On the weekends I never see her. I guess she's off terrorizing other fatties. That leaves me to myself. Never a good thing. Friday night brings dinner & drinks. Saturday brings unscheduled time alone, overwhelming desires to eat and severe lack of motivation. Sunday is church. I pray that God will save me from myself but apparently he's not into issues of vanity as I typically partake in mindless church eating as a form of socializing. There is that glimmer of hope on Sunday night when I pack my bag for the gym on Monday. I do a couple of rounds in the mirror, look at my battle wounds and plan a new attack starting Monday. I often think of shock therapy via the scale but I'm already beaten down and can take no more. The scale is my secret weapon. It's always there but I only use it in times of severe highs and lows. It's dangerous people.

As with any war we must take battle and victory in small bouts. Anything less would be overwhelming. So I ask you, "If you've been fighting the same war for 35 years and are still holding onto the enemy, will you ever give up?" Stay tuned...

Retraction

So....sometimes in the heat of the moment we say or do things that may come back to bite us at a later date. If you were one of the lucky recipients of yesterdays blog, you now own a copy of something that no longer exists! As Blogmaster extraordinaire I made the executive decision to delete yesterdays post. Why you ask? Well...let's just say that fine piece of literature that I created yesterday was the result of anger, Bud Light and poor decisions by someone we'll call "spouse." Thus a recipe for disaster. Let me clarify, I meant every word I said BUT I felt that in the wrong hands this particular post may cause me to get less sex than I already do. Although I don't believe that's possible, I couldn't take a chance. Obviously I survived the ordeal and thus have lived to "tell" of it. I will not, however, be telling of it here on the SIF blogspot! I am now free of "my burden" until it rears it's fat head again. Those of you who read yesterday's blog will appreciate the subtle undertones.

I left you with a thought yesterday....when you lunch with a friend and that friend orders salad and proceeds to eat all of your fries, at what point must you rage war on this person? Immediately if not sooner! This little blurb is dedicated to my vegetarian, fry stealin, salad orderin lunch buddy! For fear of retaliation, I will not mention her name but I will say it starts with an E, ends with a Y, and sounds like Kemily. Love you! At no point in time is this an acceptable practice. As a true SIF I rarely order salad. A. The low fat dressing sucks and 2. A salad covered in ranch while yummy is the fry equivalent. As a true friend I take humiliation head on. This is how it all goes down... the waitress approaches, my lunch buddy (in typical skinny girl fashion) orders a healthy salad. I, of course, order my sandwich and fries with a prideful smile, fat in my eyes and all while asking for extra ranch for dipping! As the orders are placed we both know how this is about to go down. In an effort to head her off at the pass I comment on the disproportionate amount of fries to sandwich size. Translation...back off bitch! In the event that my subtleties are not recognized, I turn my plate; fry side away from aforementioned fry thief. In spite of all my hard work, within minutes the salad fork hits the table and my fries are leaving the plate two sometimes three at a time. Highly traumatized I try to appear generous and say things like, "Oh sure, have as many as you want." If there was an Oscar for lunch time drama...I'd be holdin the statue! Then comes the icing on the cake, the dipping of the stolen goods in my ranch dressing. Damn Gina! At no point am I shoplifting croutons from the salad yet I'm being robbed blind in plain view of other SIF! On a good day I chalk it up to eating less fat/calories. On a bad day, physical violence is a real possibility! My dear lunch friend knows I say all of this in jest. However comma, she has the war wounds to remind her to think twice before fry napping. The next time you go to lunch with a friend ask yourself this question, "Is it better to get what you want and fear the SIF stigma or should you perpetrate as a salad in fry clothing and steal from others who put their shame on the table for all to see?" Stay tuned.....

The forecast calls for....

A baby shower! God help us all! Ok so this is a delayed posting but I've been busy, so chill. For those of you who think this blog is all about food and fat, you're partially correct. However, I've decided to vent about everything that shakes me to the core. Even if it's non-food related. So back to the crumb snatchers.....So I was invited to a baby shower over the weekend. Babies and me...we don't mix. I arrived early to survey the most important thing at any party...the food. Little did I know I was to become part of the catering crew. I don't mind the slave labor...but I'm about as fond of cooking as I am of babies. I did my part by smearing pimento cheese on crustinis and wrapping melon balls in prosciutto. Yeah....where's the seven layer dip I ask?! That was followed by roasted asparagus, some sort of salmon tea cakes and more stuff I can't pronounce.

Soon the house filled with people in search of seven layer dip. I could see it in their eyes. We marveled at the spread and decided to take the plunge into foo foo land! I ate everything but the crustless salmon sandwiches. I ask you..."What about that sounds good?" I must say though... everything was quite lovely. We drank cheap wine and ate expensive food. Can it get any better than that? Well yes quite frankly! My head in a bowl of 7 layer dip and a beer would be just peachy. I'm low rent...what can I say.

I must have drank a bottle of wine on my own just to make it through the opening of the gifts. Again...not a big baby person. Bla bla onesies and Binky's galour! I slapped some spinach dip on my plate and smiled my way through the pain bcs key lime pie was next on the agenda. A bunt cake would have worked but clearly bunt and salmon tea cakes don't sit together on the bus if you know what I mean! Did I mention the baby isn't due for another month and a half and it already weighs 8 lbs! Take a moment to process that...

So I left the baby shower with a cheap wine headache and expensive burps. It was enough birth control for at least 20 years. As I drove home I tried to see myself cooking fancy food and serving it to my husband . I realized something. A. That's never going to happen bcs I have no desire to cook for my husband and 2. I would have to use real plates (we like paper) and that would mean doing the dishes. Not happening!

Permission to topic jump? Riddle me this...if you order fat girl food and your lunch date orders a salad, how many fries are they allowed to steal before you call them out. Stay tuned...

Fat Girl Lunch Hour...

If there's one thing I look forward to on a daily basis it's Fat Girl Lunch Hour. It's a holiday of sorts. Everyday at high noon, fat girls everywhere run for the door hoping to belly up to the food they've been thinking about since breakfast. It's an acceptable practice as long as it's not one minute before high noon. Anything before noon and you might as well wear a sign that says "Big girl is hungry!" It's not a good look. As the leader of the SIF movement, I must also adhere to the high noon standard. Today I met my match in the form of a 300 pound woman squished into a Camry. That should be illegal, fyi. That behatch about plowed me over for rock star parking (parking closest to the door). If anyone could have used a little walk to the trough...trust me it was her. I did what any civilized SIF would do...I let her take the spot and paraded my "not so fat ass" right in front of her to get the first available table. Thas right...at half her size I can park 3 spots away and still beat her big ass to the door! Don't test me...I gots mad skills!

As you can see, I worked up quite an appetite just getting to the door. However, there are some notable benefits to adhearing to FGLH:

1. There's no waiting. Let's face it...the skinny chicks aren't even thinking about lunch until they stop working long enough to realize, "OMG, I forgot to eat." Words never uttered by a SIF. Forget to eat? That's like forgetting to supersize or to hold Taco Bell accountable for the free drink when they forget to ask at the drive through! Stay with me people!

2. The service is quicker. There's nothing worse than being in a crowded restaurant, hungry and having to stalk the waitress for your food! Yes, we are the ones yelling, "I was here before her and her food came first!" While I don't condone yelling (draws attention to the fact that the fat girls are getting rowdy), one can understand such behavior in these situations. It hurts my neck to follow the waitress around the restaurant in hopes of seeing my food. Injuries of this sort aren't pleasant and cause undo emotional eating. We call this injury Waitresstalkitits....sound it out. It's easily cured by 2 parts laziness and one part chocolate.

As you can see, you may have to fight with Thicky Ricardo or AssQuatch for the rock star parking but armed with a plan, a true SIF enters high noon victorious! As I bring this traumatizing day to a close I have to wonder..."Can we have our cake and eat it to?" Stay tuned...

When is a #2 a good thing?

Let me start by saying that I haven't fallen off the wagon... yet. Quite a milestone for a Tuesday! However, if you smell chocolate while reading this, there's a good chance it's because I'm eating some. Aunt Flo is visiting and that bitch has no shame! She can take a fat girl down in a heartbeat! No worries...it's a Powerbar. Invented by a man to make you feel better about eating 20 grams of sugar. So anyway...I was reliving my weekend (pre-martini) and I had a sudden flashback from my drive of shame through McDonald's (post martini) drive-thru. After placing my order for a #2 supersized with a Coke (true fat girls know all about some #2 combo!), I pulled around to pay the toothless wonder tasked with collecting my dollars of sinful shame. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that a firetruck was pulling in. Several thoughts came to mind:

1. If there's a fire they betta get my #2 through that window before the place burns down! I am one hung over heffa and there aint nothin like a McDonald's #2 to make a SIF feel better.


2. Firetrucks have hot firefighters...or maybe not! I'm all worried about my fat ass being in line for a #2 as I'm watching a parade of guts & suspenders jumping off the truck! I'd like to say it ruined my appetite but that's just not possible. I was hoping the firefighter from my gym wasn't on board as I live a lie Monday thru Friday and wasn't prepared to face him with a #2 in my hands.

I was planning on driving home to eat my #2 but that would have been a shad too civilized for this SIF. I was half way through my fries when I decided to pull around back, hide and eat in a parking space. I have a certain fry to burger bite ratio that I like to adhere to and it was now thrown off by my indecisiveness. Small problem but a problem nonetheless. Then I remembered I super-sized my #2 and all was right with the world. At the end of the day I had to ask myself..."If your favorite combo meal is named #2, should you find some hidden meaning there?" Let's add to that..."Can any good come from super-sizing your #2?" Stay tuned..

Fat Girl Monday...

Well it's fat girl Monday! The start of another diet that's bound to fail in the next 24 hours! Where's the positive attitude? Perhaps I left it in the 6 martini's I drank on Saturday or was it the Taco Bell on Sunday. Can't be sure! In any event, the weekend was a crash and burn event post martini. That's why as fat girls we must avoid alcohol at all costs! Not only does it put a damper on our otherwise high moral standards...it lends itself to binge eating which is not part of the skinny girl program. As I was watching Fit TV (and eating Taco Bell) I realized I needed an intervention. A reason to be thin. Surely there had to be a reason for me to stop sabotaging my body. Being that I couldn't get out of bed (due to post martini recovery), I decided to ditch the TV and thumb through my Fitness Magazine. None of it makes sense but I noticed two alarming details:

1. Fat models are making a comeback....**editors note** "Fat" according to Fitness is a size 12. While I don't agree...Do we really want to market fat as acceptable just so that we can see women with banana rolls and muffin tops model underwear?

2. The skinny models just look hungry! I wanted to grab the ad for Baked Lays and start feeding it to the skinny ones as I flipped through the pages! This poses an interesting question..."Would you starve yourself to be in print and at what price?"

In addition to thinking about what I want to eat at least 73 hours in advance...these are the things that keep me up at night. If I were famous tomorrow would that be enough to make me drop the Taco Bell and run FROM the border? Stayed tuned...