Diet Pills vs. Bacon

Personally I consider it a crime against fatties to use bacon and diet pills in the same sentence. However, "they" combine bacon and almost everything these days. Chocolate, jelly...body parts. Love bacon. Not eating it out of anyone’s ass thank you very much. In any event, when one arrives at the difficult decision to dispose said diet pills, bacon should not be considered a suitable replacement. However comma, when such a life altering event also involves ripping the penis away from a SIF, bacon is a friend indeed. Not for that....dirty minded fatties. If I'm not eating it out of your ass I'm certainly not sticking it in my "girl." Gheez. Wash your mouth out and get back in touch with your inner fatty. I'm attempting to make a connection between diet pills, lack of penis and bacon. Not very successfully I might add. Now do you see why this blog took so long to write?


Let's pretend someone we shall call "Me" just had a major life change we shall call disposing of “diet pills.” Put on your analogy thinking caps and work with me here. I realize making a connection between “diet pills,” losing penis and bacon is a stretch for the average fatty. I also realize it’s difficult to complain about losing penis when you never in fact really had any. In any event, let’s go back to square one…disposing of said “diet pills.” What do you call a solider that carries a loaded weapon in anticipation of battle but is never called to fight? Prepared, capable and unchallenged. Sisters…the diet pills received an honorary discharge. They resigned gracefully in hopes of bringing pleasure to another random fatty. For the quick to catch on …. here’s a disclaimer as to why I am outing myself on a fat blog: I talk about my vagina, my dented ass, my bowel movements and my tendency to be food aggressive...everything’s fair game here on SIF. Don’t like it? Click off. That being said, love my diet pills. I just realized they weren't the catalyst to get me to a size 2. That would take a lot of puking. A lot of puking. Hook me to an IV kinda puking. It's hard when you realize something you thought should work doesn't. Sometimes you feel great, look great and even pat yourself on the back for being so f'ing great. Then the pills wear off, you realize you were in fact high on some random form of legalized crack and you start eating again. It's a vicious cycle. As a Libra I strive for balance. That's why my closest can outfit anyone from a size 2 to 22. Balance. You never know when you might make a swing in either direction. Much like my closet, the "diet pills" were protecting me from the key to balance...me.

I know what you are thinking...when does the bacon come into play? Wipe your fingers and settle down. I'm getting to it. And I'm food aggressive? A long hard look in the mirror is a scary thing sisters. Especially the full length ones. *Random sign of the cross* You suddenly realize your diet pills aren't working for one of two reasons: 1. You stopped taking them or 2. They are amazing at certain times and then they stop working for you all together. As previously stated on numerous occasions, my issue always seems to fall with #2. Be it a combo, a bowel movement or a hard decision, it sucks ass. Yes, that's how I really feel. And for the 2 people that stopped following my blog for such verbiage...eat me. I’m low in calories high in protein. Even Dr. Oz agrees that’s a winning combination. It's a hard realization for a SIF when she accepts the reason she has cankles, muffin top & back fat is bcs she isn't in touch with her inner fatty. Peeling back that many layers is exhausting. It's way easier to blame someone else...like the “diet pills.” At the end of the day...being a SIF on the inside takes hard work… and bacon...as it were. I told you I would get to it...

I've often wondered what exactly it would take for me to not want to eat. To look at food and say, “We aren't friends." It's a scary thought...but so is anal sex. And I have given that some thought from time to time. Yeah, no. Anyway, stress makes me eat, happiness makes me eat, thinking about eating makes me eat, waking up makes me eat, and eating makes me eat...can't really come up with anything to stop the cycle. Until I broke up with the “diet pills.” Strange isn't it? Eat like a horse with “diet pills” in tow...remove them and bye bye appetite. Ironic at best. To look at food and have 0 interest? If this can happen with food you know what this means? The possibility exists my attraction for Brad Pitt could come to a screeching halt sans warning! This can't be my reality. However… he just grew back that scruffy ass hair. And he still has that ugly ass wife & about 416 ankle biters. Hmm...A little manscaping, a power adoption session and I'm back on board. But the loss of love for all things caloric? Seriously? I should be handcuffed to the sweets kiosk at the grocery store without the possibility of conjugal visits from Lil' Debbie. Yeah…It’s that bad. It's funny what happens when you choose "you." "You" revolts. You says, "Look bitch, I've been on a rollercoaster of fat for 39 years. I aint lettin you off the ride without a little pain and suffering." Touché. I feel ya. It's not about mourning the loss of “diet pills.” It's about bacon...like everything should be.

What’s a SIF to do when nothing will go down the hatch? Fry up some bacon! Seriously…if you didn’t know the answer to that you don’t deserve to be fat. I’ll have you know, bacon is one of only a handful of stress resistant foods. It’s a fact. Prior to my decision to break up with “diet pills” I had been losing weight on my own. The hard way. Cold turkey. From a carton a day to salads. That kinda hard. Bought me 15 pounds in 3 months. Not bad. After removing the “diet pills”…4lbs in 4 days. Who knew? For the next 2 weeks I couldn’t even look at food. Just wine. Seemed like a fair trade. Wine has calories…gotta be in one of the food groups. And it makes you high so it’s a double score. That is until your body figures out it’s living off Shiraz. Apparently that’s not a good long term plan. What to eat? Burger? The bun on a hamburger seemed so overwhelming to me….like eating an entire house. No burgers. Salads are stupid. This statement applies to stressful as well as non stressful situations. Soup is for ¼ pounders. If I’m living off liquid I’m gettin a buzz thank you. That leaves…you guessed it…bacon. There’s something about the smell of bacon that sucks you in. It’s fairly easy to eat and reinforces why fat people are so freaking cool. That’s all I could eat. Bacon. I’m not complaining. My body was. Spent lots of time in the ladies room paying for a diet of bacon and Shiraz. Fine. In and out. I could use more in and out in my new life. Lots more.

The moral of the story? Can’t be sure. I’m short on morals at present. I would like to think it’s something like…if you are hanging on to your “diet pills” bcs they’ve been in the cupboard for years, they don’t harm you in any way and it’s comforting just knowing they are there….it’s time to let go and give them to a fatty who will utilize them to their fullest potential. Their will be a period of mourning wherein as your teeth will be stained red from over indulgence in Shiraz and yes, your breath will smell like bacon. This too shall pass. Have no fear…it’s just a matter of time before bacon flavored Shiraz hits the market. Just don’t stick the bottle in places bottles shouldn’t go. There are “Rabbits” out there fairly cheap with fewer side effects. No one likes a spicy smelling “girl.” No one. This, sisters, begins life after “diet pills.” One day at a time…