Aspirations

Some aspire to become President. Some to become famous. Me...I just want to be Mrs. Brad Pitt. Obviously my goals are directly in line with my God given talents whilst the general population is just reaching for things they can't hope to achieve...but that's beside the point. My point is...who aspires to be fat? Nobody I know. I mean....I will admit to aspirations of inappropriateness with the likes of Little Debbie and trysts with everything from Helluva Good to Ho-Ho's... but never with the forethought I would be packing on the pounds. In fact, I believe in non-consequence eating. It's my Scarlett O'Hara diet plan..."I'll worry about that tomorrow." I'm not trying to be fat....just failing to be thin. Yeah that's it. I'm sort of a go getter like that. If you think it's inconceivable someone would aspire to be fat...think again. There's always someone out there ready to prove to the world the "pull out method" is not an effective way to produce intelligent offspring. I give you Donna Simpson.

Apparently life at 532 pounds was a little dull so Donna decided she needed to dream big. Wearing a size 7x wasn't big enough for you Donna? How does one dream bigger than that exactly? It seems she has set her sights on becoming the largest woman in the world. What can I say? When one is faced with losing 400 lbs or gaining 200 hundred...you do the math. It's much easier to eat your way into the record book than it is to be hailed the biggest loser. I never understood why anyone would want that title, "Biggest Loser." Just being the biggest sounds better to me...and apparently Donna agrees. Here's where the road splits....her grocery bill is over $3,000 a month! That's a mortgage! It gives new meaning to the term "Eat you out of house and home."....I think so Donna. However comma, Donna is a fatty entrepreneur at heart. She has come up with an ingenious way to fund her massive grocery bill. She has a website where men pay to watch her eat fast food.. Ughum. I always knew men were the weaker sex and um...not that smart... but really! Could they not hang out in the Taco Bell parking lot and achieve the same orgasmic pleasure for free? Hell I'm there 6 nights a week...I'd give um a BOGO! I bet Donna don't make deals like that! Once again proving my theory that ineffective birth control makes it possible for all of us to have a dream.

If you aren't having a "visually ill moment" by now, allow me to give you one. Donna holds the record for being the fattest woman to give birth. Congratulations. It took 30 medics, an industrial strength crowbar and a strong gag reflex to get that baby out! Damn. I have only one question, "Who's banging this 532lb Internet sensation?" It takes alot a man to enter into something like that and come out with....well with his life quite frankly. I'm not trying to be mean but... I've been trying to get with Brad Pitt for years. I'm half her size and I aint gettin no play. If I can't get with Brad Pitt how is a woman who wears a 7x, weighs 532 lbs and eats enough to pay my mortgage having a baby? How is it that she's famous, fat and fucked? I'm just curious is all. I hate to sound cliche but she does have a pretty face. Maybe that's it? Maybe she goes to those NAAFFA mixers I told you about? Either way...Donna is clearly getting more action than me. Reason #3324 to end my life immediately if not sooner.

I have a plan for Donna. I think she should start hanging out with Lecrecia. Remember her? The Surrrday morning drinker who got shot at the bar and now wants to gain as much weight as she can to protect her life. Remember her? I think they would get along great. Donna could web cast from the bar whilst she eats wings and fries and Crecia can pound shots whilst getting shot. I bet her profits would triple! Hell I might even tune in for that. Here's the trailer, "Two fatties alone in the ghetto on a Suurrday morning. Not sure what to do they head out for drinks and a few thousand calories. They enter the bar. Shots are fired and bones start flying." I may have to pitch that one to the networks. I'm starting to get a bit jealous of the fame I've created for Donna and Cre Cre. You better at least give me credit bitches.

What can we learn from people like Donna? Use birth control. An 'X" on your clothing label may be your ticket to fame. Being fat is expensive. Men will fuck anything. And no dream is too big...literally.

***Yes I "bit" (ghetto for stole) this story from the press at large. They have done me exactly no favors so they aint gettin no credit. I took your story and added some fat! That's why I am a SIF and you are ...not. ****

Fatty in the Middle

Yes.... I know I haven't made a fat deposit in a couple weeks. I'm working on it in between meals. Be back soon....

Girl Scouts...

Evil little green midgets is more like it. Back in the day, being a GS was a respectable way to earn a living outside the confines of parental slavery. In fact, parents did most of the work. They had to take that oppressive form, pass it around to unsuspecting co-workers in hopes that the guilt of having crumb snatching offspring forced into early labor was enough to secure an order. That transformed into tactical warfare via the home front...at just under 4'8" the peep hole proved an ineffective means of keeping the enemy off your front porch. What's a SIF love more than cookies delivered to the home? Not much... other than a naked Brad Pitt delivery boy. Now they have morphed into tiny prostitutes pedaling their wears at the precise spot where a box of Thin Mints is equivalent to Kryptonite....the grocery store! I know this because I almost hit one of those green rodents with my car. I won't go on record and say if it was intentional or unintentional but either way they should know better than to block a SIF from the front door of any establishment that carries food. Warning...objects in car appear as large as they actually are and can do serious bodily harm when hungry....back away from the door green bitches!

Now that I got that off my chest....I will admit to buying a box....or 5! Yes! Yes, I broke SIF rule #34567...shopping whilst hungry. I was a prime target. Before I even broke the threshold of the sliding glass door to the Food Palace, I had spent my entire grocery budget on Thin Mints, Samoa's and Tagalongs. The Mom's took one look at my ass and started telling me all about the healthy new options in GS cookies. Shut it Mommy....I'm a SIF...I know the menu, I don't need suggestions and by the way... your kids are butt ugly and yes they look just like you! Bag um and cut the small talk. No, I'm not a very nice person when it comes to healthy alternatives. I'll let you know when I jump on that band wagon. I do recall another rage filled trip to the grocery ruined by the likes of the GS. I was living in VA and had made a quick run to the store for...whatever I was craving. As is usually the case this time of year, the little green prostitutes were out in full force. This time, they got me on the way out. Had I seen it coming, I may have had a snack to offset the impending drool that follows the sighting of a box of Samoa's. But no, they got me head on. "You wanna buy some GS cookies," they said. "I want you to crawl back in the womb and make everyone happy," I said with my ever present inner voice. And then I bought 8 boxes. However, comma, hiding in the shadows cast by my size 53 figure, was a reporter...waiting to ask me why I chose what I chose. Lovely, busted. Luckily it was only the local paper. He asked, "Why Thin Mints?" "Because I'm going to take the home, dip them in the carton of ice cream I just bought, down some Diet Coke and pretend Brad Pitt is on the way over," my inside voice said snarkily. Luckily, my outside voice came to the rescue with, "Because they are thin and minty." Hey, the only thing I sugar coat are my cookies. I saved the article as proof that I was famous for being fat long before any of y'all knew me (southern vernacular creeping up on me again).

I hold no ill will toward the GS. They provide me with a sugar high like no other. Perhaps I should start referring to them as drug dealers instead of prostitutes. No...I'm confident they would sell their bodies for cookie sales. I can see it in their whorey little pre-pubescent eyes. I got news for ya girls: having a period sucks, getting married sucks worse and if you want to be a good little whore...stay single! If not them, I'm sure "Mom" would take one for the team. After all, mother's are just hookas with commitments. Hmmm...I do need sex and....well I do love cookies so maybe I can work something out with these little green cookie pedaling vermin. Perhaps a deal can be had. I do have experience. As you might expect...I was a member of one of these "cover groups for local pedophiles." I was in fact a BROWNIE! It was my dream job! I could actually be what I love most in this world...brownies! I don't recall having to act as a prostitute but who was banging me in that nasty brown dress anyway? Exactly no one. I had no aspirations of being a GS. Why would I? No one wants to eat a GS but everyone wants to eat a Brownie. Fat girls get all the action!

Have I lost it? Clearly...and long ago thank you. If only this brownie had known the following prior to marriage: Brownies with husbands are like leftovers....whilst they taste better everyday they are most often left to wilt and very rarely eaten. Isn't it amazing what one can learn from being a part of a group? Calling the GS as we speak....