Free Willy

Fatty is back in the hisouse! As many of you know, I am a mortgage broker by day. Translation...I do a whole lot a nothin! If anyone knows of a good job for a talented writer with an eating disorder...do tell. This new position must have full respect for fat girl lunch hour and my need for constant snacking. I hear Jenny Craig fired that fat ars Kirstie Alley so perhaps I can shoot for that job. They wouldn't know what to do with the likes of me. "So...you run marathons, ultra marathons, work out 2x per day and box. And you are 400 lbs bcs?" Because I like to eat behatch! Let's face it, my whole life is an oxymoron. I love to workout yet I eat like a pig. I love money yet I am a mortgage broker. I love to write and hate to read. Must I go on? I do however have a breakthrough of sorts in the drama that is my eating disorder...

My new friend Andrea (the nurse) informed me that there is actually a name for people like me. People who eat non-stop and have no trigger to say "Yo fatty...put down the Oreos and step away from the bag!" It's called Prader Willie. Apparently the body lacks an enzyme to let the brain know you are full. They can literally eat themselves to death. I may be going out on a limb here but...sold! What else can be responsible for someone consuming: a peanut butter bar, a Dove Bar and 6 Oroes' in 1 sitting? Oh and a bite of a glazed donut. Luckily it was stale. Normally that wouldn't stop me but I had other resources. Yes, I did that Tara! Add about 3000 more calories to that and you have my day in a nut shell! Horrified? As you should be. I don't think I lack the enzyme. I think the enzyme is present. It's just in total shock. Speechless if you will. I hear distant screams telling me I'm full. Much like my husband, I ignore them. Pleasure takes over and the enzyme is silenced. Victory is once again mine.

As much as I would love to group myself with the PW peeps, I feel I would be doing them a disservice. Yes, if I eat myself to death the autopsy will clearly prove that all of my enzymes were firing at full speed. They just weren't prepared for my weapons of self destruction. Did I mention I am completely high on caffeine right now? It seems the anorexic at the coffee shop ignored my request for a DECAF SKIM LATTE (oxymoron). Why would I trust someone who shops at Forever 21 when she's 45? I tried shopping there but they don't make clothes in a junior 2x. Hussies. Clearly her enzymes are running her life. Turn them off sister! Come over to other side! Lane Bryant has cute stuff...trust me! 16 is the new 2!

So as you can see I put my dysfunctional life out there to save all of you from falling into my trap. In rare cases such as the Skinagers, my rantings offer a another reason to shoot vinegar and laugh with fatties. While I may not be suffering from a known disorder I am confident that one day my dysfunctional eating will get it's own name. Until then I will continue to feed the symptoms as well as my face. Hate to run but it's FGLH!