Spooge Bob Stupid Pants

Being fat in the middle of summer sucks. You would think the heat alone would be enough to scare off thoughts of fried chicken and macaroni…but no (just had it for dinner and the heat index is 120). I’m thinking that would take a hurricane….Cat 5. Scratch that…being trapped inside with death starring me in the face is more reason than ever to binge eat. I went through a Cat 3 and I gotta tell ya, I did not go hungry. Hubby made sure we had a generator and I made sure 2 things were hooked up post haste…the fridge and the TV. I’m a survivalist like that. In any event, there are no hurricanes in sight and no diets looming. I tried the crazy “you’ll never chew again” diet and…well what can I say, I like to chew. I will reveal for the first time the name of said diet (drum roll please)…Medifast. Medi- implies doctors concocted this train wreck of starvation and fast means just that…..no eating! It was literally the only one I hadn’t tried and now I know why. The food tastes like ass and I was literally starving. Which I suppose was the point…but you don’t go from Pamela Anderson to Mother Theresa on a spur of the moment decision to abstain from sex and move into a convent. You have to carry a bible around for a while…see how it feels. Have sex with guys every other day and work your way back from Tommy Lee sized proportions (major withdrawals). Slowly drain the silicon sacks from EEE to A. That’s all I’m saying.

So my immediate plan to lose 50 pounds by my 20th class reunion next Friday is as follows: buy a big dress. I can hide at least 20 with a fitted waist and flared bottom. Top that with the random genetic mutation story and I’m good until the 25th. That reminds me….my annual Vajay Jay appointment is right around the corner and I don’t think I’ll luck out and get dumb nurse 2 years in a row. That means I’ll have to lose the 10 she lied about, the 10 I lied about and the 10 I gained since all the lying began. Or maybe I’ll just get a new doctor. Seems easier. But…he’s hot and I like it when he tells me I have a perfect uterus whilst rearranging my eggs. At least something on me is perfect. Too bad my uterus is the most unused part of my body…aside from the entrance. I’m getting off track. So I confided in my non-uterus loving husband that I was feeling a bit “off.” I was getting ready to say, “Maybe it’s bcs we haven’t had sex this year,” when he interjected, “Are you taking a multi-vitamin?” How soon I forget… since he decided to start working out at 39, he’s now Mr. GNC. “Yes, I am. Prenatal to be exact. I figure I would let my body figure out why it’s preparing to have a baby when it hasn’t seen sperm since we started dating.” That usually shuts him up. If not, I show him my back fat…ya know right under the bra clasp. One lump on each side….the twins. Maybe a multi-vitamin can help that.

It’s bad enough when the law says you have to put up with shit from your husband (biblical law that is) but no where in any book does it suggest I have to put up with shit from random male assholes without appetites. Before heading to the beach (in my thong) to scare tourists, I stopped at Subway for some sustenance. Just what every beach goer needs to see….the latest thong from Lane Bryant plastered on a plus sized pale ass wolfing down a 12 inch sub with all the trimmings. Yummy. Hey, at least I get the $5 foot longs. I am a frugal fatty. So I’m ordering up lunch for me and the hubster… just minding my own business whilst Suzie (not her name at all…far too many vowels) from Slovakia cheaps me out of as many toppings as she can. It’s disturbing. Has the price of lettuce and pickels gone up from the oil spill bcs Suzie sure thinks they have! I can’t call her out bcs then I look like the fatty I’m trying to hide. I mentally bitch slapped the shit out of her though. That’s why you go early in the morning….no one is in there and you can raise holy hell without calling attention to your fat stores. I’m gonna need a new paragraph for the rest of this story….

So…as I was saying, Svleka was depriving me of pickles when I heard someone order a sub from behind. Normally I like to turn at an angle when someone is that close…makes things appear more even. Some dumb guy ordering a 6 inch turkey with “spooge” of mayo. A. 6 inch subs are so last year. 2. “Spooge”- what are you a pedophile out for lunch….nasty word that should never be used around innocent food! So already I’m not liking this asshole. Meanwhile….Big Bertha (aka me) is bellied up to not one but 2 foot longs in the making. Being the nice fatty that I am, I told him he could go ahead of me since his mini-man pedophile sub was already prepared…spooge n all. (puking in back of mouth). He thanked me and for a minute I thought he was kinda cute. A minute….just a minute. A. I realized we could never be together due to his lack of appetite and fondness of spooge. C. I’m married (in theory) and E. He almost got tackled by this fatty for opening his spooging pie hole and saying the following: “Can you eat all of that?” (referring to just 1 of my 2 foot longs) My inside voice said, “Yes asshole. Or I can cram it up your ass and watch the mayo spooge out.” My outside voice said, “Oh no, it’s not for me.”- I may be fat but I’m quick to deflect any remnits of it away from it’s owner…..how dare he! This is a classic example of why men are so dumb! You NEVER ask a woman (fat or thin) if she can eat all of anything! Do I ask you that when you come face to face with my “Chuckie?” I think not. At the end of the day who really cares! A taste, a nibble an all out feast….leftovers…spooge….it’s all good…until you start asking questions ….dumb ass stupid 6 inch man who will NEVER get laid with a mouth like that!

Now I was angry. I had to act “smuggy” or he would clearly know I was lying. Hell, all he had to do was peer under my bathing suit cover up and he would have answered his own question without opening his dumb guy mouth! Deep breath. The militant Subway worker ordered him back in line behind me (clearly some sisterly love) and I was most pleased. They have a system and as a customer you do not attempt to overthrow it…..got that spooge boy! I was keeping a keen eye on the “subs for others” when I noticed “Tupac”(he looks like him…RIP) put my BMT in a bag with a turkey sub. The turkey was for the girl in front of me who was thin and clueless….always keep your eye on the food sister! I let this go on until she was about to pay and walk out with my husbands sub. That can’t happen….he would want to eat mine and I don’t share. Mother taught me well. I quietly called this error in judgement to Tupac’s attention. I forget the foreigners like to yell and quickly knew I was being outed. I don’t know what it is about Subway but if you break the system they go Saddam on your ass! He decided to argue with me about the location of the BMT. Yeah…I have fatty GPS and you…you are a dumb guy. He swore he was right and made a scene only to find out….Fatty knows best. Do you think he apologized. No. In his country not only would a woman never speak up….my cover up would be covering up way more than in currently was. Whatever…I win hands down. Sister ahead of me thanked me…that was enough. That and knowing I wasn’t getting her lame as 2 topping sub or spooge boys 6 inch meat molester.

I’ll have you know I only ate half of my sub. I wanted to leave room for beer and ice cream. And that’s how I ended my day…in the ice cream aisle of the grocery store explaining to my neighbor why I was buying 2 half gallons of full fat ice cream, hot fudge and whipped cream……party. Yup…party for the person who ate the subs I was buying earlier. I need to start ordering in again. I need privacy until such time that I can meet up with this thing they call self control. I don’t even like how it sounds. See Mother, I made it through an entire blog without saying, “Fuck…or rabbit.” You raised me up right….except for the eating disorder part… you were a real June Cleaver. See you Thursday for my 20 pound reunion!