When is the ideal time to start working on “New Me?” Let’s ask the expert…My dietician (past tense) says there is never a good time to jump on the hard things. Oh my. Girl, we need to talk. To be clear, her past tenseness isn’t my fault. She left of her own free will. Wouldn’t you? I mean she gave me all these great tools to become the best version of myself but I kinda like the worst version. All fat n happy. Healthy me = angry me. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry. Green and sober is not a good look. If you ever see me running around with a bookbag, an apple and a bottle of water….RUN! I might stab you…
Back to the hard stuff. I got the chills…. So “they” tell me January is the perfect time to birth “New Me.” Sounds painful. With seasonal depression n all it just doesn’t work with my schedule. I need lots of fried and sugary things to see me through. And wine. Around February I start to get a hair up my ass again. While slightly uncomfortable it motivates me to contemplate my options. Then I remember Valentimes (yes times) Day requires chocolate. And wine. Moving right along to March and things start to feel possible once more. Then along comes St. Paddy’s Day. Normally not a trigger for me. It’s an unfair holiday. I don’t care about green beer so I always think I can make it through. And then I’m forced to peddle all that is me to the local parade where assholes throw candy and beads at me from tacky floats. Look…I have one tit and a fat ass. Tell me how this works for me? Anyone want to see that shit show? I fear not. So I wear my favorite T-shirt in hopes of redirecting their affections to a more suitable locale. “Pat McCrotch.” Yes, that’s what my shirt says. It’s a crowd pleaser. Luckily no one has taken me up on it. Fuck around and lose a limb. So there goes March….
Around April I start to lose my shit. Everyone’s all hyped up on spring and the impending warm weather. As previously noted, I am not a fan of the in-betweens. Is it 80 degrees? No. Then it’s winter. Fuck spring. Bla bla…the birds are chirping, and the flowers are blooming. Wonderful. I love being pulled from a deep sleep at 5am by Mother Cardinal and her screaming spawn of Satan whilst I sneeze my way to the coffee pot. Good times. The light at the end of the tunnel…. Easter! Another sugar holiday. Are we starting to see a pattern here? Does Jesus really love me? I mean he created all these nonsensical months. You know who Jesus loves? Jesus loves fat girls! Yes, he does. The bible tells me so. Not sure why we can’t agree on an acceptable bread choice across the various denominations. Crusty outside, warm and chewy in the middle. That’s a solid sourdough all day long. And for fucksake real wine people! I’m not waking up with a hangover to go drink grape juice at the YMCA with the “Headbangers”- sorry the people who save your soul at the front by the band- and eat stale bread. I’m more of a Bojangles biscuit, Prosecco and Joel Osteen kinda gal. I can fast forward through all the singing and refill my glass as needed. Don’t judge me. Is there really a need to pretend Biblical Betty aint hittin the bottle at Sunday brunch? No. There’s not. This is why I don’t go to church. I want to hang my dirty laundry out, bask in forgiveness and start the week anew. I haven’t found that church yet. Holla if you know of one…
Where was I before I secured my eternal resting place in hell…May. May is panic time. By this point I’m not only fat and angry but also out of time. I start contemplating that hotdog and egg diet that makes its rounds on social media just before summer. The problem is…if I’m going to eat a wiener, I’m gonna need reciprocity mmmmkaaay. Sorry Mother. I told you I was a slut. You chose not to believe me. Appreciate your optimism. Now I’m a fat slut. Thank God you stopped at me. Is it June yet? Sure…now I’m swimming and boating in my Tankini bcs Jesus doesn’t love me. Can we skip ahead to my favorite time of year? Thank you. Fall is my jam. The cooler weather brings back soup, cookies and layers. Layers are a friend to fatties around the globe. You can hide a good couple sizes up underneatha whatever makes you feel fancy. I like those pregnancy pants with the expandable tummies. Get chu’ a big sweater, some big earrings and head for the buffet sisters! No reason the preggo crowd gets all the cute clothes. My dream of opening Forever 2x is still in the works…pray for me….
I shant go on. You know what happens the remainder of the year. We eat our way through December and pray for a rebirth come January . Rinse and repeat. I’m 52.5 years into the wash cycle and still wringing out fat. Le sigh. I feel like there’s a market for fat deranged hell bound bitches such as myself. Maybe we start our own church? A good French Rose’, some crusty bread, some 80’s metal hymns… and REAL Headbangers! We shall call ourselves…The Fatter Day Saints! Preach!