Monday, November 1, 2010
I survived Halloween. The evil midgets dressed in drag were no match for me. Steal my candy? I came out swinging. A club that is. It was costume appropriate. I was a deranged cave woman. Not a far cry from accurate on most days. If I thought I could get away with grunting instead of speaking, killing at will and clubbing annoying people, I’d rock that shit 24/7. However, I would have a tailor make me a frock fitting of my SIFness. In a pinch I opted for the slightly used $5 thrift store version. Luckily somewhere there was a large woman willing to part with her size 12X leopard skin tent. I thoroughly enjoyed telling the cashier how I would have to alter it to fit me. I let her guess up or down. The only cutting I did was around the edges. Ventilation for the fat stores. For the record, whomever donated that hot mess did themselves a favor.
Fat + Leopard Print = Feral Fatty on the loose. Hide the children.
Being an OCD SIF, I was less than thrilled to be wearing someone else’s trash. How do I know this fat heffa didn’t have some random skin disease that would render me unable to marry Brad Pitt? Is Halloween worth that? I think not. I decided to wash it in order to avoid a life altering catastrophe. Not. Dry Clean Only. Because somewhere there’s a 400 lb woman who not only felt the need to scare the free world into submission with her “What not to Wear” wardrobe selection, but also felt it necessary to put herself in a position to pay thousands of dollars to keep it clean with the inevitable spillage of chocolate and chicken grease. Not smart. Wash and Wear Fatties! I solved this problem with tights.Tights that came up to my chin. And a long sleeve shirt…just in case. Attractive I’m sure. Luckily no one goes digging in cave girls tights often enough to appreciate that “look.” There was a slight issue with shoes. One would assume a cave girl to go sans footwear. Yeah. I’m just not that into it. My toes look like little dicks and I didn’t want any “incidents” with the whorey types who dress up like slutty school girls. My toes, my choice. I say who I say when. Ok, enough. This cave girl opted for “Come Fuck Me Boots.” Here’s the problem with that. Cankles. I’d like to know who the fit models are for these things. I can’t zip those fuckers past my ankles! Mind you…they have to get all the way up to the knee! No small feat. That’s what friends are for. 5 of them… and a vice. Had they been available back in cave days, I feel certain they would have been all the rage. As painful as they are to don, they are dual purpose. They cover up what no one needs to see (my porno feet) and uncover what every cave girl wishes to reveal… her pink taco. Suffice it to say there’s currently a ban on Mexican fare at my home. This cave girl went to bed hungry. Again. I ask you….what good are holiday’s if you can’t indulge? Every day is a holiday in my house. Perhaps why I am always hungry.
One crucial error. No dinner and too much beer. 18 or some number with 2 or 3 digits. Can’t be sure. I managed to scarf down some ham biscuits and a cupcake at the party. Goes well with beer. Til around 2am when everything starts churning. Ham & frosting burps. Yummy. There was almost an “incident” with the cupcake. They had Halloween rings on them. I thought they were edible. Not so much. Luckily Valerie grabbed the ring before I bit her finger. Nobody wants to lose a digit on Halloween, now do they? I did manage to get in some cardio. I danced all night. Me and my club. I gotta tell ya, that club was thick, pliable and didn’t talk back. All qualities I admire in a dancing partner. One issue…dancing in the “Come Fuck Me Boots.” It not only got me no sex, it got me no right foot on Sunday morning. Woke up paralyzed. Apparently there’s a weight limit on sexual propaganda. At one point I looked down and they were bunching around my ankles. How was this possible? My calves were sucking the life out of them yet there was room for bunching? Exciting and interesting all in one breath. All I know is that once you cross the threshold into plus size living, you can no longer stand at an angle for any period of time. As proven by my club feet the next day. My toes went from small dicks to giant dildos! Not attractive. Perhaps why I still haven’t gotten laid. Or maybe the vision of me as on over sized prehistoric dancing queen was a bit much. Perhaps. Fat people get down too.
Add a $44 cab ride to the equation and you have the makings of an expensive sex free evening. A late evening as well. 2am. So not me. I’m always in by 1am. Taco Bell closes at 1am. Can’t fuck around and miss that. It took me all day Sunday to recoup. Recoup meaning eating until I passed out and various trips to the porcelain palace. I had to be ready for the crumb snatchers. They came out after dark ready to steal my “Take 5” bars. Not. Lollipops. That’s what they got. And then I get to tell everyone the kids didn’t like the “Take 5’s” and I will be forced to eat them. I gots mad Halloween tricks yo. Hot neighbor came by for a treat. I like to think of him as a “trick.” Perhaps next year…when I’m thin. I can’t imagine looking hotter than I did this year. Right?