Monday, April 7, 2014


Fat Back is killing me. I need to be mobile in a way that doesn’t involve driving to McDonald’s. I was already really good at that. In fact, should the Olympic Committee choose to add a “fastest time from drive-thru to consumption” category, I’d win hands down. Add in the extra measures taken to avoid being tagged as a repeat offender and I’m qualifying as the world’s greatest athlete… ever. Its borderline crude how quickly I can inhale a number 2. My only issue to date… sesame seeds. No one likes sesame seeds in their Number 2. Or maybe they do? I find it highly evidentiary. I realize that word has more than enough syllables to trip up the common fatty. Fatsplanation…it’s hard to back up a trip to the gym with seeds in your teeth …and the remnants of a Number 2 on your face. Evidentiary. You’re missing my point…or maybe I’m missing my point. I can’t be sure I have a point. My point is…I need to move around and my Fat Back is keeping me down. Two things stand out on my discharge paperwork: A. Take all drugs as prescribed. Check. 2. Have sex immediately. Check. Set aside all the sex and drugs…I’m bored. I find myself popping blackheads for entertainment. I can’t imagine this is attractive or calorically advantageous. Yet somewhere in SIF land, one of you is asking Siri how many calories are burned popping the imperfections on your pretty faces. Thank you for that. I’ll be coming out with apparel to match your sadistic behavior this fall. Watch for it.

When I’m bored and can’t go anywhere, I go on a diet. Why not? That counts as a” somewhere” here in SIF land. The tricky part …finding a diet I haven’t tried and or failed at. There’s always that fucking ridiculous notion of just eating healthy. Who comes up with this shit? Just eat healthy. Just stop drinking. Just quit smoking. Just work out more. OH….Ok! Just shut the fuck up! Pardon my Fatty French. Stupid people make me aggressive. I tried “Fatkins” a few weeks ago (key words being tried and weeks ago). I thought it to be a good fit for all that is me. Bacon, ranch, steak…clearly Dr. Atkins is a BIF. I’m not sure how anyone loses weight on this “diet.” Even I felt like a whore rolling in bacon grease after 1 week. I’m not suggesting that to be a bad thing. I just need something a tad more virginal to offset my already whorish nature. Perhaps it was the ban on wine? In fact it was. Don’t ask me to choose between wine and bacon. Life just isn’t tolerable when you’re sober and fat trying to be skinny. It’s maddening. However, there’s always turkey bacon. If you like that shit. Me…I went back to wine and chocolate. In fact, I didn’t waste time cooking bacon and waiting for dessert. Nope. I stocked up on chocolate bars infused with bacon. If you can’t smell it and you can’t find the wrapper…it never happened. It’s fucking genius. I am the self-sabotage queen of the world. Take that Dr. Fatkins.

So my friend Kaitie (her name has not been changed as I intend to publicly out her if I do not lose weight), pedals Advocare. I know. It sounds like a Geriatric rest home for people who shit their brains out. I’ll let you know if that comes to fruition. It’s a 24 day cleanse. Can you guess what my non-committal self likes about this right from jump? 24 days. I like to convince myself I can do anything for 24 days. That’s a stretch…and not the stretching I should be doing. Stay with me here…diet = lying to yourself. I’ve convinced “old me” I can be “New Me” in just 24 short days. Old me rode the short bus and falls for such nonsense. I intend to blame Katie when/if new me isn’t front and center in 24 days. I’m not sure she signed up for that. What are friends for? I can’t be sure. I don’t presently have any. Unless you count the Fat Train Fatties. Exactly my point. I will allow her a shameless plug before I throw her under the short bus. Should you care to join in the madness, you can check out Katie’s site at Send me a meal bar. I’m hungry. You’ll be most pleased to know my kit came over a week ago. I started today. What? It came on a Tuesday. SIF Rule #4567…don’t start dieting on any day other than Monday. It can wait. I think I may have gained 20lbs last week. It’s not easy getting in a case of wine and all the contraband on my list in less than 7 days. I have yet to find a diet that allows for the unlimited consumption of fried chicken and macaroni and cheese. I just wiped drool off the monitor, fyi. This my sisters is one of the side effects of dieting. Drool. Much like anal leakage, it’s not socially acceptable. 23 more days. The plan seems fairly normal in that you can eat normal food. That is unless you’re not normal. Normal food makes me hungry. And cranky. And gassy. 23 more days. I’ve been peeing a lot. Random overshare.

As Queen Fatty it is my duty to test out any possible solution to binge eating as a sport. Consider it cross training if you will. Someone once told me skinny looks better than fat tastes. Spoken like someone who eats turkey bacon and jogs. I’m a full on fatty with a closet full of new clothes for someone who doesn’t in fact exist. Unless my inner fatty turns out to be a size 2 with a fetish for 70’s clothes, I’m screwed. Will I ever accept Forever 2X as my own? Will the geriatric shitting diet reveal a whole new me? Could I really compete in the Fatlympics? Do people really eat Chia Seeds? What is a Chia seed? I can’t be sure. The only thing I know for sure is that diet is a dirty word. I’m rolling in shit to prove to the SIF you can wear a bikini with a scratch and dent ass. The things I do for you. Sisters….I don’t claim to be all knowing. If your inner fatty has found her way to the pound, please advise. I may be in the market for a stray.

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