And the Wiener is....

Happy New Year Fatties! This is our time of year! It's game on! Who will win the Fatty Oscar? Will the cream of the fat crop rise to the top and stop eating in time for the summer reveal?Can't be sure. I just know I got a pair of velour pants from 89' with tags on um that pretty much guarantees I'll be going home empty handed! Why is that? Because one day I will fit into them. One day when the 80s come back I'll be ready. That's my goal. Who needs an Oscar with the 80's hanging tough in my closet? When it comes down to it it's an all out war. It's Oscar vs. Oscar Meyer... and I'm walking away a "wiener"...thas how I roles! The New Year does nothing but reinforce my commitment to not committing. That's about as healthy as it gets.

I like to go against the grain whenever possible...bcs I don't do grains...whole or otherwise. I officially started my New Year's diet on...well I haven't exactly started per say but I'm verging. In order to start I need to decide what I'll be giving up. Let's see...I've already given up sizes 2, 4, 6 and 8 and I'm working on 10 soooo...not sure where to go from here. Why must I part with the things I love to ring in the new year? Why can't I expand on the list of things that further my expansion ? Like instead of giving up of fries (which is akin to giving up a kidney in my world) why not vow to upgrade to loaded fries or fries with ranch dressing? Let's expand on that shall we? If there were an award for contributions by a condiment for enrichment of others...Ranch Dressing is bringing home the Cecil B. Demille. That's just a fact. Like it or not. I'll break it down like this...Ranch Dressing is banging Brad Pitt and Ketchup can't even keep Vince Vaughn entertained. Feel me?

Who will walk away a wiener? It's just too early to tell. A good fatty will sneak up on you. We are only 15 days into the new year after all. At two pounds a week...time is on our side! Speaking from experience, I can go from an all out fatty to not too shabby in about 8 weeks. So I think I'll role with that plan. That allows my fries a few extra months to bang Brad Pitt while the overachieving fatties put Ketchup on their baked potatoes and brag that Wendy's has healthy alternatives. Whatever. I don't "go out" for baked potatoes. I can get that crap at home. The mere sight of that red-headed Wendy's girl and I'm biggie sizin my fries all the way to the front of the line. NEVER will you hear me order a baked potato with fries on the ready. It's like gettin an Oscar for a movie you weren't in. It's un-American. I think I speak for the Academy when I say that fries take home the prize every time!

Fat is where it's at in 2009!

I'm back! Yes, I know I've been missing in action for quite some time. Fatty had to go to the Nations capital to make some money for food. Now I'm back so look out! I will have my first Fat Report online soon! I'm sure you are all on a diet of some sort. Me...not so much! Stay tuned...

Amber Alert.. Queen Fattie escapes OBX?

No worries fellow fatties...I've relocated my fast clusters to MD for a job that actually pays real live money. Did I mention I left the husband, the house and the dogs behind? Yeah. Yeah I did that. Sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do to get good chain restaurants within walking distance. SIF loves TGIF. Anyway, due to high stress I have taken a break from blogging to concentrate on what really matters during this very difficult time...emotional eating. On the menu this evening is Smart Pop popcorn mixed with Peanut M&M's. It covers the food groups quite nicely. As is the case every Sunday night, I've vowed to change into "the new me" come Monday morning. Being that Monday morning is officially 5 hours away...I have some work to do. It's hard to cram in all of the "lasts" before dawn. The pressure...

Susan is prepared to act as my fat publicist in the event that people start talking. During the fat stage: "Kelly respectfully requests that you respect her privacy during this very difficult time." Then there's the post fat stage: "Kelly just woke up one day and stopped eating. It was the craziest thing." So as you can see I'm prepared on all levels for failure and success. That's key. Let's be clear. I have no plan. I left my beloved "crack" in the OBX. Can't get my hands on that til Friday. Shit. Then there's Thanksgiving. I reserve the right to "holiday eat." Anyway, I'll keep you posted on my success/failure as things progress. Until then, I need to get back to binge eating.

Scary Politics

I don’t know what disturbs me more…Halloween or Politics. Both scare me. Both require you to disguise who you are so that people will give you things. So it boils down to what disturbs you less…votes or candy. If you are reading this blog, I can only assume your vote has been cast in favor of candy. At least candy gives you some sort of pleasure without all of the drama. Just unwrap, savor and swallow. I guess the same could be said for Politics… except when you get caught unwrapping, savoring and swallowing, drama is surely going to follow! Maybe we should have the candidates dress up and trick or treat for votes. Think about it….if we just knew them for their agendas, we could make a legitimate vote on the issues. My sources tell me (gossiping at the office) that in the history of the Presidency, the better looking candidate has always won. This is why I think Brad Pitt should get on the ballot. He could ban junk food, sex and napping and still get my vote! I would make a wonderful First Fat Lady.

So no matter who or what you voted for just know there’s always candy. I know bcs I am still eating my way through a “pumpkin” of Halloween candy that was given to me undoubtedly bcs I am slightly over my BMI. You can’t hide everything under a Halloween costume. In fact, I don’t even dress up. No matter what I put on, I’d always be the fat version of it. “Oh yeah, it’s Plus Size Cinderella or maybe it’s The Wicked Witch of Weight Watchers.” Yeah. I don’t need that. I prefer to answer the door, give out some candy and eat my share until the next victim arrives. I can’t imagine what would happen if a real live politician showed up at my house. I guess I would push my own agenda…like taking the calories off of labels and telling me there’s no trans fat in Ho-Hos. If I’m eating something bad I don’t really need an actual breakdown of how bad it is. If found on an inner aisle, I assume no good can come of it. To that I add, no trans fat in a Ho-Ho implies that I am making a healthy choice. It should just say, “You won’t die as quickly.” Perhaps that’s what labels should do…list the years that will be added or subtracted from your life upon consumption. Umm…I think I’d be on my 14th life.

I am glad both Halloween and the Election are over. I am in full on preparation for Thanksgiving. Screw the pilgrims. This is a fatty holiday through and through! Whilst we are on my political agenda…I think triptaphan(sp) overload and Thanksgiving Coma should both be enough of a reason to make the day after Thanksgiving an official holiday. Can someone see to it that we get that on the ballot?

Sick and Tired

Just as I got rolling on the crack, sickness struck. It's like the Fatty Devil wants to keep me down. I went to the good doc to have my vitals checked and he informed me that the crack was making my blood pressure a little high....and?! Did I mention I could barely talk and happened to be coughing up a lung at the time. So I added a Z-Pack to my shopping list. I made the executive decision to go off the crack to let my body heal. What I thought would be a short detox is taking forever! I've now moved on to coughing like a veteran chain smoker. I proceeded to cough my way through lunch today. People were looking at me like I was a Leper. These are the times when I like to have a little fun. As I "felt" people staring I said things like, "Yeah so the test was positive...highly contagious....no cure." That followed by a few belly coughs ensured the best table in the restaurant. Funny, no one wanted to share an appetizer.

Life sans crack is laced with jelly donuts and cream cheese. Somehow my blood pressure failed in comparison to narrowing arteries! I don't know what the hell the crack does but I know one thing for sure...it divorces me from food without one minute of separation! Fair...very fair! I was told I could take the crack with the antibiotics but unbeknownst to my Dr...my body is under siege! Here are the current battles in progress: Upper respiratory infection, period, yeast infection and fat infusion. Conquering the first 3 will lead me to my final victory against the fat infusion. I will say that I haven't been as hungry with all of the germs invading my body. We know how much a SIF enjoys a good stomach flu when it works in our favor. That being said, I may have just eaten a jelly donut and a peanut butter bar. Or maybe that was my other personality. Can't be sure. Why would I have these things in the house? Why my husband of course. Why would I have him in the house. I just don't have an answer for that.

So I think next week will be my target date to get back on the crack. Perfect timing. It will be just in time to make me a "non-eater" for Thanksgiving. I am currently known for my second and third helpings. For once it will be nice to be known as "she barely ate." It will send shock waves through the family but they need some shock. Now that the time has changed I find myself sick, fat, tired and in my pj's by 6 pm. I just swallowed a vat of cough serum to ensure I sleep away any memories of the jelly donut and the peanut butter bar. All I have left of my my tryst is a good burp. I'm off to bed to dream of crack and skinny jeans. In that order.

Back on crack...

Well I finally did it. I went back on the "crack". By crack I am of course referring to the second best diet drug in the world. The first being Ephedra which the evil government took away. Why is government interfering with the fatties anyway? Don't they have enough problems? It would stand to reason that if the fatty crowd lost weight we would put less strain on the health care system. So we lose a few to heart attacks and some will grow extra appendages but all in all, crack saves! That's why you shouldn't give people like me drugs. I get way to happy. Don't worry, I'm not trying to jump over to the other side. There won't be pictures of me doing vinegar shooters in the Post or random sightings of me asking for a salad instead of fries. I haven't lost my mind for Gods sake! I just needed a little mask to get me through a rough patch. Boy if that doesn't sound like an addict I don't know what does!

So basically when I take the crack I don't look at food in the same way that I normally would....in other words I don't attack and inhale! I can look at a french fry and walk away. I know...this shit is good, right?! I also don't crave anything. Why just the other day I looked at a cookie, walked past it and then came back for two! I said I didn't crave anything...that doesn't mean I can walk past a warm oatmeal cookie and not show deference. In just three days I'm down 3 lbs. Yes, it's water weight but a SIF never questions a tip in the scale when it leans in the right direction. In fact, when I went to the doctor to get weighed for slaughter, I noticed something interesting about "doctor scales". If you lean slightly to the left, the numbers go down. I can't be sure my left butt cheek just doesn't weigh less than the right but I wanted to pass on the info anyway. We SIF need all the tricks we can get. Scales are evil after all. Just when you think you are down a pound or two along comes a new scale to tell you that you have gained 10! Scales were obviously invented by men.... Inconsistent, irritating and liars...who else could be responsible.

Sometimes when I blog "greatness" I can almost hear your cries through the computer. To this I say the following...No I will not tell you what the drug is! It's FDA approved for the fattest of the fatties, it does come with some risks and I probably shouldn't be allowed to take it as I do not fit the morbidly obese guidelines that accompany the script. I am a very careful diet drug person. Why just today I bought a blood pressure machine to monitor myself while on the pills. Now I feel like an 80 year old obese person. Next I'll be sticking my finger for glucose. The drug is perfectly safe. I just happen to be a psycho. So as I get ready to go home for lunch I'm left to wonder what I'll eat. I know I'm hungry but I want for nothing. It's very strange. Being skinny kinda sux. If there's no joy in eating...there's no joy! And don't try and convince me that turkey burger tastes like beef or that salad is a great substitute for fries. No, no and more no. Fat is fat. Once you've had it, nothing can replace it! I think my husband said that.

"World's Fattest Man is Getting Married"

All my hopes of a soul mate gone in one headline. Yes, I am already married but that will sour as my size increases. I've always held out hope for the perfect back up and I found him in the form of the World's Fattest Man. I've never gone so far as to confess my love for this larger than life creature but apparently someone else has. Call me crazy but I didn't imagine anyone would be beating down the door of a man who weighs over 1200 pounds and can't get out of bed. Brad Pitt, yes. World Fattest Man, not so much. Here's why this is such a big loss (no pun intended)... I'm a big fan of "marrying down." While few will admit to doing so, it's quite common. You find a mate that accepts you for "who you are...no matter what" bcs to him you are a step up from every other scandalous ho he's dated. If you don't understand the concept, you aren't qualified to carry out such elaborate schemes. Stay with me....No matter how fat you get, no matter how much of a bitch you become...you are his Angelina Jolie. That is until some dumb ass hoochie comes along and fills his head with lies about how hot he is and how he deserves better than your fat ass. Confused at first he stays the course. Given a second round of complimentary BS, the SIF are in trouble. Big trouble.

I'm not saying I've been in this situation nor will I admit to condoning such trickery when selecting a mate. Ok yes I will. Think about it. Men choose their mate by the size of their tits and by the size of their tits. Is it so wrong to choose a man by the size of his expectations? Thank you. The key is in the back up plan. Every good thing will come to an end so preparation is crucial. As SIF we are aware of what brings any good marriage down....food! Oh we may marry you as a size 2 but you can go ahead and put a 1 in front of that in the first year! 12 is tolerable. It's when we take out the charge card at Lane Bryant that things start to go South. We have sent a clear message..."It's a one way ticket on the Fatty Train. Aint no turnin back!" According to what I am reading, TWFM is setting up his new bride in much the same way that I have described. In preparation for the wedding he's lost 500 lbs. Let's have a processing moment for that last statement. Ok. He hopes to be able to actually get out of bed for the wedding. I ask you one thing..."How bad must HER self-esteem be that she found it necessary to marry a man who cannot in fact walk and whos claim to fame is being fatter than anyone in the WORLD?" Way worse than mine! He's dreamy!

I'm sure he's a nice man. All fatties are nice people with pretty faces. We know this. But deep down inside we just want to eat and be happy. Oh it's all fun and games when he gets down to 897 pounds but what happens when he balloons back to the world record holder that she fell in love with? I guess she either resigns to living the rest of her life in bed with fat rolls and bed sores OR...she sucks up the publicity for being the catalyst that made him lose the weight and then bails before People Magazine exposes the fact that she left him for the Worlds Skinniest Man! Typical hussy. Don't do it WFM! Hold out for a real SIF! Don't trust the skinnies. They aren't real people. They don't consider Little Debbie a delicacy or appreciate the contributions Ranch Dressing has made to...well everything! They swallow vinegar and tell you that you look good when you don't. I have some advice for TWFM....leave her at the alter and run for the border....Taco Bell won't let you down! Yo Quiero Taco Bell!

Strike a Pose

Have you ever discovered something about yourself that you, oh say, just failed to notice for the last 36 years? Well I did. I was hanging out on the deck with some friends drinking a beer (or 12)and having casual conversation. They were dressed very relaxed in skinny jeans and tops that doubled as dresses. No I was not wearing skinny jeans and a top that doubled as a dress. That alone would have been enough of a discovery to call the authorities. No I'm talking subtleties here. As we were laughing and talking I realized something... I was "posing." Pause for shock factor. There I was... standing tall, clothes perfectly positioned to cover the problem areas with my hands placed slightly above the muffin top. I was in fact, posing. The girls were too involved in random conversation to notice that standing in front of them was a bonified poser! I was visibly horrified but apparently not enough to stop. I found it necessary to promptly interrupt the smoking, drinking and laughter to acknowledge the red elephant in the room....me!

Who does this? I can't be sure. It's one thing to be a starving, statuesque model type who's qualified to strike a pose at any given moment. It's quite another to be an overweight, starving fatty type who poses to cover up the fact that her jeans are about to spontaneously combust. After acknowledging that they were in the presence bonified poser, they convinced me to go to dinner. Perhaps convinced is too strong of a word. Yes, yes it is. Let's just say we headed off to PF Changs and leave it at that. Does it really matter who's idea it was? We sat down to dinner and promptly ordered wine...a bottle. As the conversation picked up where it had left off, I was again amazed to notice that while the skinny chicks were flailing their arms across the table I was once again posing. I was sitting sideways, legs neatly tucked under my chair, top button of my jeans popped open, shirt pulled down over the jeans, hands neatly placed on the hips and head tilted slightly at a 90 degree angle. If one were looking to debunk the pose they would only have to look as far as what lay underneath the table... fat rolls, cankles and a button that use to belong to my jeans. Once again, I drew them into the pose. We laughed and got down to business...ordering food.

I was sure the more wine I drank the less likely I would be to continue this new found phenomenon called posing. This was a theory that would prove to be false. With one bottle down, I was still giving Madonna a run for her money. "Strike a pose there's nothing to it"... fact, not fiction. Here's a SIF revelation...it's quite possible to consume an appetizer, your entire meal, a bottle of wine and still make the overindulgence look good given the right pose.I won't lie and say that posing takes away the pain of jeans that shouldn't have left the closest. No. In fact, the "inner SIF" was screaming for relief from the jeans, the pose and the fiction but the "outer SIF" was whispering, "I am one of you." Whisper being the key word. If you were wondering about the "head tilted slightly at a 90 degree angle" comment...that's actually from the SIF rule book. SIF rule #7654....when posing always title the head slightly at a 90 degree angle. Doing so is guaranteed to eliminate at least one chin. I got more chins than a Chinese phone book so this is one rule I never break! At the end of the day, this new poser person that I am isn't so bad. I dare say fat never looked so good!

Those Pants

Ahhh...the change of seasons. The leaves in all of their autumn splendor, the crisp fall air, the buzz of the holidays...oh yeah...and all of the clothes from last season that don't freakin fit! Traumatic. Every SIF can relate to what I'm about to say. As we gain and lose weight, we tend to make a crucial SIF error. Rule #2315...don't throw away the fat clothes! Yes, it's nice to think that once we've lost the weight that we will not in fact "find" it again. Unfortunately, it always finds it's way back to us via our thighs and our closets. Riddle me this...I look at myself every day in the mirror. I'm no Angelina Jolie but she can't hope to be this good looking. Anyway, as I stare at myself, I always look for signs that I am may be putting on the pounds. Either I have trick mirrors or Steve Wonders vision bcs I just don't see it coming! Nope. I look for an extra chin, a neck roll, a banana roll or any sort of roll that shouldn't be there. Don't see a thing. Perhaps denial. Perhaps not. It's not until I switch out last seasons clothing that all hell breaks loose!

If there's one thing every SIF knows it's how "those pants" use to fit. I am no exception to this rule. Today was our first "cold" day here on the beach...(can't wear flip flops). So I reached into the closet for my black cords. When I last left them, they were hanging off of me. So I guess part of me knew to grab them bcs they would either make my day or confirm what my lying ass mirror would not. The latter would be the case. They certainly fit. However, that's not a good thing when they are 2 sizes bigger than you thought you wore! F'n mirror! Where is the disconnect between what I see and reality? Have I trained my eyes to see what I want them to see? All of my "friends" tell me I look great. Liars...all liars. Perhaps I need to break out my sales skills on them..."When you say I look great what do you mean? Spill it bitches." I tend leave off the latter portion when actually making a sales call. It's not nice to call the clients bitches. I reserve that for my friends. Anyway, so I stood in my closet frozen with shock. Part of me was happy that I had something to wear and the other part of me was apparently alot bigger than I remembered! So I did what any SIF would do...I found a nice top to match my pants and took my big ass to work.

More trauma is on the horizon. I have yet to pull down the rest of my fall clothing. Nothing good can come of this. I must have 20 pairs of cute, viable, fall pants. Apparently put there by someone I haven't seen in a while! As you might expect, I have a plan. A plan that involves me not eating. While never a good plan, a much needed one. I'm out of control. The "season" doesn't help the situation. Allow me to describe fall with the first words that come to a SIF's mind: Halloween candy, Thanksgiving dinner, Christmas cookies and my personal favorite...New Years Resolutions! So basically it's...eat, eat, eat and plan to never eat again. If I were to take those words and form a plan, I'd be as fat if not fatter until Jan 1st. While I would enjoying eating my way from September to December I fear I need a more viable plan. Like only eating foods that rhyme with skinny or chewing my food and spitting it out. Something like that. In the meantime, I'm getting a new mirror. A non-lying one. Perhaps one of those circus mirrors.

Red Red Wine...

Saturday was a big night on the town for this SIF. My friend Leslie took me out for a belated birthday dinner. I love Leslie bcs her and I are pretty much on the same wave length...good food, good wine...good times. Before we went to dinner we had a few cocktails at my crib. For some reason I felt the need to get all gussied up. Can't be sure what that was all about. Oh and Mom...wore the necklace and earrings you bought me...lovely! Except the part where my neck is so fat that it looks like the ring of diamonds is providing me life support. The "good" clothes are tight and that alone should have disqualified them. My sole mission for the evening was to eat well and get drunk. Gotta have goals. We went to a local fav...JK's. The food and wine are to die for. We didn't waste any time ordering up a nice bottle of red wine and an appetizer...most yummy! I should mention that I have no shame about adjusting said clothing to match said agenda. In other words...if one were so advantageous as to look under the table, they would have found my gut hanging out in disgust. I have to qualms about unzipping the pants to partake in more pleasure than the said outfit will allow. None at all. By the end of dinner I must say that even I was disgusted with me.

On that note....we called a cab. As if that weren't bad enough (showing up to a nice restaurant in a car and leaving in cab...hello ghetto fabs) I decided to meander by the bar and have a little chat with the bartender. You see my normal staple at JK's is their apple martini. It's beyond words. I asked them if ordering a bottle of fancy wine threw them off. Apparently not. They told me that when they saw me walk in they immediately made an Appletini....um...that's all I have to say about that but....My poor Appletini was still sitting there with no one to love it...to drink it...to make it feel wanted. Well I couldn't let that happen. While waiting for the shameful cab I threw back said Appletini. It was after all my civic duty...or something. To make matters worse, they didn't even charge me. Shameful....just shameful. Let's check the scoreboard shall we? 3 beers before dinner, bottle of wine at dinner and post dinner martini. I can't add at this point. Which presents a problem when leaving a tip. I distinctly remember being at the bar hugging people that I'm quite sure I didn't know when the waitress walked by, winked and thanked us for the tip. That's never a good sign. Let's face it, we can't add on a good day much less on a bottle of red and beer. I fear 20% may have taken on new meaning last evening...can't be sure. These are the casualties of friends letting friends tip drunk. SIFATWD....it's my new charity....Sisters in Fat against Tipping while drunk. Support the cause will you?

So we jumped in the cab and were off to see the husband at Awful Arthur's. There are advantages to having a bartender for a husband! We proceeded to terrorize him for a few hours until we passed out. It's now Sunday and time for redemption. I always feel guilty rolling into church with a hangover. My theory...better to flaunt your flaws than to drive around with a Jesus Fish on your trunk while nursing a hangover at home. Nothing a quick trip to McDonald's and a little prayer can't solve. I'm healed! Lot's of me taking a nap and doing a whole lotta nothing for the rest of the day. Oh except cooking my husband Thanksgiving dinner bcs he'll be gone for the holiday. Problem being...he's at work. Darn...have to eat it all by myself. Closet eating...something new...or not!