Tuesday, January 26, 2010
I’m re-working my license plates as we speak. Just when I think fat is “out” and death by donut to be a viable option, television once again saves the day. If you are fat, thick, obese or any combination thereof…I highly recommend you watch the episode of “Taboo” called “Fat.”This once again falls into the category of ” I can’t make this shit up.” It’s becoming quite a lengthy chapter in my writing career. So I was clicking around trying to find something on TV that would compliment my jelly filled Krispy Kreme, and there it was. A large blond woman with braids, who’s clearly the morbidly obese stunt double for “Hedi.” …”The Grandfather” would be none to pleased by the way. From the size of this bitch, one too many HO’ HO’s went in and not enough”Yo da lay HO-HO’s” came out. Buried beneath piles of rubble, was a pretty face. I fear the challenge of unearthing it might be more work than the common man could handle. Apparently not… she not only has a boyfriend…she has a boyfriend who weighs less than I do and she’s trained him to say things like, “I really believe this is the best I can do.” He really said that….on TV…for everyone to mock. The only upside I could imagine for him would be to turn “Dahmer” on her ass. She would make for quite the feast. You could Ziploc and freeze enough to feed 2 or 3 3rd world countries. My giving soul always shines through.
After picking my jaw up off the floor in order to position it back on my donut, I realized I had to DVR this shit. I needed proof that there was hope for me… after such time that my husband realized I was never going to be the woman he married. Just a large version of something he once banged. Once, being the key word. They say life is a journey not a destination. I say marriage is quite the opposite. As soon as you say, “I do,” you have arrived. The journey was short and full of just enough lies to get you to the alter…yeah that was fun. Couldn’t have led me to Brad Pitt’s house….nope…led me to misery. As it were, I waited years for Brad Pitt to dump Jennifer Aniston. I figured he was waiting just long enough to make the numbers work after that $5 mill wedding, but then I got tired of waiting. So I went to my destination certain they’d stay married forever. I kid you not, literally, the first day of my honeymoon I clicked on the TV (cause that what all people do on their honeymoon) and there it was….”Brad & Jenn separating.” I screamed in anger…or maybe that was the fake “O” I had been perfecting for the time frame I’ll call “dating”…dunknow. Either way, it set the tone for what was to come….not me and alot of eating. Ok, back to the Fat show….
Did you know there’s an official name for fatties throughout the world? Apparently eating is a multi-cultural problem…thus spawned the term “Globesity.” I freakin love it! I will name my first born, “Globesity.” Her nickname shall be “Beesee.” It has a ring to it. According to the kill joys who make up this crap, 2/3 of the US is overweight. Really? Cause I feel so alone in my caloric quest to conquer the world. Even the flippin Chinese have jumped on board…they once boasted little to no obesity…not anymore…1/3 of their peeps are fat and happy! I feel like they could make a comeback if they stopped frying the cats…broiled is the way to go. It takes more than “10 minute” but it’s better for you. What do I know…if it aint fried I don’t eat it. Mostly bcs I want to make sure it’s cooked properly…yeah that’s it. Frying kills the ills and I’m OCD so it’s medically necessary for me to fry my food…or something. It would seem my SIF have taken over the world. It makes this blog all the more powerful, quite frankly. And we aren’t going away. As long as we can get a meal for $5 in less 5 minutes, eat 1400 calories via 1 donut and summons someone to bring almost anything to our door, we will remain SIF…Globesity Goddesses if you will. It’s time to wake the inner fatty on the hold outs…Let this serve as your motivation to take your 2/3rds share and turn it into 3/3rds!…I’m no good at math, but I think that’s the whole pie. I like pie. I feel like pie could be motivating to this crowd. I’ll work on it.
Let me tell you how the Moratimyea’s feel about this situation….who are they? I don’t know…some peeps in the Middle East who think fat is where it’s at! I’ve secured a one way ticket to their country, fyi. In their culture “skinny” is akin to having 2 heads, 8 legs and a husband who actually does something. Unimaginable. Shame and scandal is brought to your family if your BMI is less than 30. Your status in society is tied to your size….the bigger the better! Fat equals health, wealth and beauty. Amen!! Women must be prepared at a young age to take on a husband….and the husbands want fatties! They use a technique called “gavage” to force feed little girls who think it’s cool to be skinny. Where’d they get an idea like that? It’s actually borderline child abuse. Watching someone not want to eat was almost as disturbing as watching the forced feedings. Granted they aren’t getting takeout from McDonald’s, but I’m sure the road kill I saw them gnawing on was quite tasty. I mean….this sounds like the land of milk and honey right? Hold your forks….there’s one tidbit of underlying trickery that I have a problem with…they believe that how large you are represents the amount of space you take up in your husbands heart. That’s great n all if you are married to someone with enough room to accommodate such a commitment. I however am not. My husband has given his heart to cigarettes and fat back. No room at the Inn. Looks like it’s time for a journey to Mortamayea… and a new beau who appreciates a SIF.
As if all this scandal weren’t enough…I leave you with the scariest of the scary….the organized fatties. The National Association to Advance Fat Awareness…hide your children. Their members are fat and thin. The fatties are the fatties and the skinnies are called “FA” or Fat Admirers. Picture a dance floor with woman so fat(visual aide- 8 chins, an ass where a gut once was, a couple of vagina’s and a few cankles….yummy) they can barely bust a move… and then thin men doing the moon walk around them. This would be a fat mixer. These “fat admirers” admit to being “Bi-sizeual.” You kiss your mama with that mouth? Yes. They claim to have a unique ability to just see the person for who they are….underneath layers of molten, wrinkled, festering fat. I may have added that last tidbit. In any event, we all know who they really are. The oddballs who smell like old people, play video games at 45 and think the Simpson’s deserve and Academy Award. As a fatty I think we need to recruit some more viable candidates to the group. I plan to email Brad Pitt after I finish this and tell him his services are needed at NATAFA. He saved New Orleans…surely he can save the fatties. Not to mention he owes me. That whole…”I’ll never leave Jenn” incident has cost me valuable years of sex. I haven’t decided how to get rid of all those crumb snatchers he acquired…perhaps I’ll take them to a NATAFA and tell the fatties they are Kabobs. Or I could send them to Mortamiyea…I think at least 2 of them are from there anyway. If he would agree to all of that, I can take him places Angelina won’t go…literally.