Taking a Bite of the BIG APPLE...

...but I'd rather that apple be dipped in caramel.

I (Emily), am leaving for NY on Tuesday to visit my dearest Lindsey although she really doesn't deserve a friend like me. She also says that she's not going to be eating while I'm there. I can't wait to order from so many of my favorite NY spots and eat in front of her. Yes, we have a sick relationship.

It's been a crazy week...full of shopping and eating and everything festive.

When I was at the mall the other day trying to find parking, it was crazy. The aisles were jam packed with people searching for spaces and I was one of them. The only spot left was the pregnancy spot. For those of you who don't know what that is, the pregnancy spot is painted pink and is reserved for expectant mother, much like a handicap spot. Although, unlike a handicap spot, you don't need a permit to park there. It's a free-for-all.

Do you know how tempting that mother fucker was? I was soooooo about to park there, arch my back and rub my big belly so I could obtain a space next to the elevator. But, I didn't...I'm a good citizen like that.

Two Things

I heard the most wonderful conversation when I was at the LB (Lane Bryant) this weekend. All the fat employees were standing in a circle talking about different times they were mistaken for being pregnant. One girl said she didn't care, one woman said it hurt her self esteem and the other woman said, and I quote:

"I tell 'em I not pregnant...I'm obviously just fat!"
Then she started grabbing parts of her body and saying:

"This ain't baby, this is fat" "This ain't baby, this is fat"

So, that's totally my new mantra.

2nd thing

I saw my friend Laura's father this weekend. I've known her and her family for around 13 years. Her father, Jeff, has lost some weight, (I know, big fuckin' whoop), so I told Jeff how great he looked. Then he said:

"You can do it too Kid-o!"

Seriously, I was about to kick him in his fucking balls.

Auntie Em

I became an Aunt on Tuesday. It's all very thrilling and the baby is cute and all and blah blah blah. I was really trying to pay attention to the new baby, but all I kept hearing was my sister-in-law and her sisters talking about how much weight she already lost just from having the baby and what she was going to do to lose the rest of the weight and weight, weight, weight. This was like, 20 minutes after pushing this child out. I don't know why but it bothered me...I had to vent...so thank you.

You Asked, We'll tell...sort of

So, because all of you are fabulous people, I'll let you guys in on our little weight secret. I'm not going to give you the exactly numbers...but I will tell you that we're both 5'7 and both between 250 and 300lbs.

As for the person who left this comment:

"My guess is 180 and 165. I am always entertained by your writing but you don't sound like you really know fat. I am at 255. I know fat. "

1. Lindsey and I laughed out loud at that!
2. We KNOW fat...we live fat...we ARE fat... fatter than you at least
3. If we weighed 165, do any of you think we'd have a blog about fatness? No, we'd be too busy shopping in normal girl stores.

So, I hope that answered everyones questions...if not, we'll we're sorry, (but not really).

Read All About It!

I've been looking for a new job for a while. I'm done with school soon and I decided it was time to finally be an adult. So, I sent about 800 resumes out and, surprising to me, I got a call from a very famous fashion magazine. They want to interview me. Could I be anymore excited?? Probably not.

I was driving home from work thinking about what an amazing opportunity this would be and it hit me. I'm fat. Fat and fashion, mainstream fashion that is*, don't mix.

So, this man who is interviewing me next week has no idea what I look like and I'm nervous. Not nervous because I'm not qualified. Not nervous because I won't have anything to say, (I actually rock at interviews), but, I'm really afraid, for the first time apart from horrible boys with hairy chests (you know who you are!), that he's not going to like me because I'm fat.

My plan is to hire a girl that looks like me but is thin, have her do the interview and then when I'm hired, I'll show up...they can't fire a girl for gaining like, 150lbs in a week can they?

*Please don't leave comments about how fat girls can be fashionable. I know this, you know this, sadly, America doesn't.

Creepily Yours

In response to some interesting and colourful emails we have received, I invite all of our readers to put in their 2 cents and add a comment to this posting regarding how much you think both Emily and Lindsey weigh. I find this interesting because of how vastly different peoples internal pictures of the written word can be, and how people interpret "overweight" as such a broad category.

Please feel free to write a comment with your guess. To all of our readers who think that numbers and scales make no difference, well, good for you and I am eternally jealous, but I just can't see it that way at this moment.

Thanks. Creepily Yours, Fatty McBlog

In Memoriam

We here at Fatty Mcblog want to take a minute to remember actress Wendie Jo Sperber. Wendy passed away after a long battle with cancer. Wendie, literally, was one of the first larger ladies I ever saw on television that was cool. So, here's to you Wendie, we'll miss you!!!!

Very Mean Lindsey

Lindsey is feeling blue today...so blue that she asked me what I weighed and like a retard, I told her. Now she's not talking to me. That's right...NOT TALKING TO ME! I've called her, from work mind you, about 27 times. She won't pick up...she is, therefore, hurting my feelings a ton. So, I'm asking you, our readers, all 3 of you, to write her a little message telling her that she shouldn't hate me...and that she should be nice to her bestest friend, because I'm very fat, and she somehow thinks this is a lie.

Listmania!!!

I love lists! I love to make them, I love to re-read them, and occasionally I love to cross things off of them. One of my favorite aspects of my Netflix membership is I get to make a list of movies to put in my queue which designates the order in which I receive my movies. Yes, I am a dork. ..

Recently while perusing my list I took notice of the "ratings" given by other Netflix customers to the movies in my queue. Most of them have pretty high ratings, ranging from between 4-41/2 stars out if 5. However, it came to my attention that 3 of the movies on my list had only 2 1/2 or 3 stars. Which movies were these? Only the ones which had the word FAT in the title!

That's right! Fat Chance, Fat Girl, and Fat Actress have the lowest ratings of all 79 movies in my queue! Now I ask you, is that because Netflix members have issues with foreign films, documentaries, and that girl from Cheers? Or is it simply that having the word FAT in a title means ratings death?

I guess it's possible that these movies and shows just suck (and having never seen them I can't give an opinion about that) but EVERYTHING else in my queue has a higher rating! Coincidence? I think not!

I for one seek out books, movies, and songs about fatness. But my movie list doesn't lie...FAT on screen is as unpopular as fat in real life!

Why?

What purpose does my fat serve? In my life, in the lives of the people I know?

Sometimes I feel like I know the purpose my fat serves in the lives of my thin friends: I am like reassurance...they are not as bad as me. I am non threatening. I will never steal their boyfriend. They can eat in front of me. Most men will look at them before they look at me.

With my fat friends, I am also a form of insurance. As long as someone else is fat with them, it makes them feel better. I know that if I even really lost weight, Emily would do her damnedest to lose weight as well, because no one wants to be fat all alone. We are all somewhat jealous and resentful when a friend loses weight.

What I am really trying to understand is why I have wrapped this adipose sweater around myself. What purpose is it serving for me? I read somewhere a long time ago that FAT was like an actual physical barrier that one puts up to protect themself from the world that no one is supposed to get through. Why can't I just decide to eat well and exercise, and then just do it? I must be fat for some psychological reason...and I would really like to know what those reasons are.

I refuse to believe that I have done this to myself simply because I like eating too much while watching movies.

Even Mo' Complaining

The other night I got fed up. I had put a craigslist ad up and didn't get the results I wanted. I did it mostly for fun, but I also really wanted to see what was out there. Crap...that's what was out there. Then I got curious. What if I had put up a personal ad for someone just like me, but skinny. What would happen if, let's say, I put that I was 5'7, 130lbs? What am I exactly missing out there in the world because I'm fat?

At first I was happily surprised. I was more attracted to the men that wrote me when they knew I was fat. This was, I must say, a nice, little, relief.

Then a few days passed and I got a random email. The name was actually familar so I opened the email right away. And I was right, I did know this person. He was actually a friend of my brother's from elementary and high school. And he fit every desire I could have wanted in a man writing me off the internet. But, that was the problem, he wasn't writing me. He was writing thin me, and she doesn't exist.

Besides the fact that he could stand to gain a few for me to really think he's 100% drool worthy, it just made me sad. When I told Lindsey about it she said I was crazy. But, I can't stop thinking about it. I knew this guy, he was nice, cute (one of my first crushes when I was around 13), smart, Jewish, a perfect guy to take home, because, well, he's already been to my home.

Am I really missing out on fabulous men because I'm fat? Maybe. I can live with that. Although, I must say, Matt, if you're reading this because you secretly adore BBWs, but haven't met the right one, email that skinny girl from craigslist again, she's me!

Tons Of Bellies, Bellies Of Tons

Seems as though everyone is pregnant. Jennifer Garner is about to burst any day now. My sister-in-law has a little over a month to go. And, this beautiful woman that lives in my building whom I'm friendly with is due in 5 weeks.

Elizabeth lives 3 floors up from me. Her husband is a plastic surgeon, and I'm not really sure if she works at all. Elizabeth, normally, is a small and thin Asian woman. Simply gorgeous. We have lovely chats sometimes when we get home at the same time and ride the elevator together. She knows that my sister-in-law is with-child, and usually asks me hows her pregnancy is going. This time I got really creepy though.

I told her than my sister-in-law, usually a size 0, is really uncomfortable with her expanding belly and what a shame I thought that was (creepy move #1). Then I told her that if you're pregnant, you should be pregnant and enjoy it...show it off because it's your one chance to be fat (creepy move #2).

But, the creepiest comment of my elevator ride with Elizabeth was when I made my exit. I told her, and I quote:

"Okay, goodnight. ENJOY YOUR BELLY!"

Yeah, I said that. A fat girl told a normally skinny girl that she should enjoy her belly. She gave me the weirdest look. I felt awkward. I dread my elevator now.

complaining complaining complaining

I feel oh so petty and lame for even writing this post. The fact that I just returned to my apartment it's 1:15am, and I am possessed to write this about this insignificant event (instead of complaining to Emily because she is in class!) is so bothersome. But, it did force me to admit that I am so completely ashamed of so much about my life.

So, "what the fuck happened"?, you may ask. Well, I walk into my apartment and what do I find waiting by my bedroom door? Nothing but a package with a gigantic Lane Bryant sticker staring up at me! Yeah, shouldn't be a big deal. Shouldn't mean anything, and yet it really pissed me off, and yes, embarrassed me.

I mean, my flatmates know I'm fat. They see me everyday. They are well aware that I am not a tinny speck of womanhood. But now they know that I don't buy clothes at "normal" stores. And somehow the worst part is that I didn't even get any clothes this time! I happened to get 3 amazing "plunge" bras which I am currently pretty stoked on. However, I do not need the UPS man, the door man, the front desk man, and my flatmates knowing that I shop at The LB.

I am sort of pissed that they put their sticker on their box. I feel like I ordered kiddie porn and it was delivered with a picture of a naked Dakota Fanning glued to the top. I felt that level of shame and embarrassment for a second.

Does anyone else feel that way? When I shop at The LB stores I will take the clothes out of the shopping bag they give you and stuff them in my purse. I will cut out labels of fat girl clothing stores out of my clothes. I have actually lied about where I bought a pair of pants...

How am I supposed to accept myself or have an inkling of self esteem when my self image can be shattered by a medium size brown box with a blue and white sticker on it?

Dream a Big Dream for Me

This idea is verbal gold baby, but since I am not about to act on it, I am giving it out to the Fat Internet Community in the hopes that someone will read this and take action...

To point out the obvious: Women's bodies are shaped differently.
The perhaps not so obvious point: As one grows larger, the differences in shape take on a life of their own...

What do I mean by this? Sometimes, when you stumble over a certain size, different parts of you body take over and seem to grow more then the rest of you. You can have a huge belly, ass, thighs, calves, breasts, etc.

What does this have to do with my promise of verbal gold? Well, I propose that the companies that engage in making expensive fat lady clothes should cater to their clientele....

For instance, imaging a line of cute fat girl jeans where you could pick a pair with say, extra room in the belly jeans and the rest of the pants wouldn't balloon out around you. Or a pair with extra room just in the thighs.

I think it's genius, as I would but such a pair of jeans. I am sick of picking clothes that fit my belly and not the rest of me. I could dress so much cuter!

Or take my big ass titties. They're huge...so is my belly, but my tits are bigger than my belly and I end up with a little hole between button 1 and 2 pompting my friends to chant..."What's between 1 and 2 Lindsey...what's between 1 and 2"...My big tits...that's what!

Come on Lane Bryant! Get to work!!!

Fatty Goes to School

On Wednesday nights I have my 3 hour psych class. I must say that this is one of the best classes I have ever taken and I'm always thrilled to go, except for last night. Our assignment was to read a chapter out of our book titled "The Fat Lady". That chapter, was, in short, not very pro fat. The therapist who wrote the book (Irvin Yalom), went on and on about how this fat lady, Betty, came into his office and how disgusted he was by her 5'2 250lb frame. He went on for pages upon pages about how gross she was. She was 27, single and made him cringe. He tells us that he hates all fat people. At one point, he asks why can't us fat women just put down the doughnuts. That he sometimes feels that he just wants to shove our face in ice cream and yell, "stop eating you fat cow." Yeah, good times...especially since the guy that was presenting this chapter in class was regulation hottie...not in my sense of the word hottie (I like my men fat), but in this society, he'd be known as a very good looking guy.

So, I got to school early so I could read this chapter before class. I usually get to school an hour early so I can sit on a bench outside and read. It was a bit misty outside, but I didn't mind. I sat on that bench and began to read, in shock at what this very well respected therapist had to say about Betty. It got to the point where I called Lindsey up just to tell her how amazing this chapter was...she was soon as captivated as I was.

I sat there for about an hour in the mist and then got up to go to class dreading that we'd have to discuss for 3 hours the plights of this fat women and the therapist that hated her. If there is one thing I don't like, it's talking about being fat with a bunch of skinnies. So, I got up and started walking to class, but I looked back to see if I had forgotten anything and what I saw was not a great prelude to class...My ass had left a HUGE dry mark on the bench.

Let's break it down...huge fat girl is reading a story about a professional hating a big fat girl and then gets up and leaves her mark as a big fat girl. AWESOME! What else could possibly happen?
Well, I'll tell you what could happen...I'm hoping that no one saw, and it wouldn't have been such a big deal if I hadn't had just:

1. Read about how horrible fat people are.
2. Made a big ass dry mark on a bench.
3. Realized my fly was undone while walking to class.

When I took my spiral bound notebook out of my bad, I noticed something lodged in the spiral part of it. What could it be????

Just a Raisinette.

Yeah, I'm fat.

"Neck Rolls" Sounds Gross

So, as has been noted before, I have no TV at home. Thus, once a week I trek up to the Upper West Side and engage in some serious TV watching with some friends of mine who have Tivo. Our shows include Lost, Transgeneration, America's Next Top Model, and The Biggest Loser.

Watching The Biggest Loser with thin(ish) friends is sort of traumatizing. Especially while eating dinner! TBL is now at the point on the show where you can really see differences in peoples bodies and faces, and the before and after photos are really amazing. I LOVE BEFORE AND AFTER PICTURES!!!!!

While watching this weeks episode, my friends kept making comments about how the participants look like different people now and how they look like 15 years younger. Honestly, they do look like different people. Bodies aside, their faces look soooo different. The after pictures have neck rolls, chins, and cheeks missing where there had been stored fat before. I noticed one friend of mine sneaking glances at my fat ass (or belly) sitting on her couch as we watched the picture transformations. It was like she was mentally cutting off my fat and wondering what I would look like if I lost all that weight.

It is an odd thing to realize that you don't know what you really look like. What if I am really ugly under all these layers of fat...it could go either way, but I can't seem to put the effort into finding out ... again.

Big-ass Booty Calls

So I used to have sex with a guy who I find really attractive, fun, and interesting. Yet our relationship never went further then sex. We would fuck, cuddle, smoke a cigarette, and then I would get up dress and leave. His doorman must have thought I was a prostitute... seriously, his doorman would wink at me when I walked to the elevator.

I was always sort of proud that I never get emotionally attached to him. But I think that I was really just scared to find out that he would never want to let the relationship progress any further because well, I'm fat, and he doesn't seem like the type of guy to have a 300 lb girlfriend on his arm.

Anyways, after a few months of not seeing him I embarked on a little light internet stalking (come on, we all do it!), and I noticed that he has some new pictures on his friendster profile ... and he got REALLY REALLY CHUBBY!!!!

This actually happened to Emily, too. She had a NonBoyfriend named Jack. He and Emily dated for a short time about 6 months ago. It ended and for some reason, she went and saw him last week. The big surprise? He (who was always "fat") was now huge! She was in absolute shock to have seen such a sight. But, still, he didn't really want her...I guess the thought of two fatties, to him, walking down the street was too much to handle.

Now, I am attracted to chubby guys, so Oliver's pic turned me on even more. But it got me thinking. This guy, lets call him Oliver, seemed to like having sex with the fatties, but all of his real girlfriends were thin. Now I want to know what his own weight issues are, and more then anything I want to get in touch with him again and have some serious sex.

But honeslty, can two fatties have a relationship without secretly thinking that their respective weight issues reflect each others? And if you only fuck fatties in secret, wouldn't your own weight gain make it more unlikely that you would out yourself?

The Fat One

I hosted my sister-in-law's baby shower last week. I looked pretty good. Gap tweed skirt, (thank you extended sizes on Gap.com) and a black sweater. I was hot shit.

But, guess what her two tiny, thin, sisters showed up wearing?

Yeah, you guessed right.

If you split the picture we took together in half, it would look like an ad for weight loss surgery. Before and After. Sad.

Question of the Day

How fat is it to eat while watching The Biggest Loser?

Bruiser

Last weekend I had the 1st of 2 baby showers for my sister-in-law, (the next one is this weekend). I bought a skirt online at a brand new fat girl website called, www.alight.com. I really liked their stuff and was lucky to find an adorable skirt. It was shipped and I wore it. But, the problem with the skirt was that it was a fuller skirt and therefore made me look fuller than I really am. Solution? I stuffed myself into a girdle and tying that skirt so tight around me that I couldn't breath. We all need to suffer for fashion sometime, and this was my time.

The result: 3 hours later when I returned home I had a huge bruise, as if I was wearing a big bruised belt. It's been almost a week and it's still there, but I must say it looks lovely with my brown belt.

Pannus

As I have stated in previous posts, the pannus is the part of your stomach that, if you are fat, hangs over. This is also known as an apron.

The Poop Routine

So, every time I go to the bathroom, either to pee or drop a deuce, I sit there and squeeze my pannus. I can't help it. I do it every single time. Even when I'm not at home. I don't know what it's accomplishing, but I can't get enough of it. It's fits so perfectly in my grip. Then I flip it over to see the under-workings of my pannus. Then I look at the top again. I don't do this with my upper pannus.

My conclusion...I love my pannus. I mean, what do skinny people on the toilet do?

Rant of the Day

I try to be very calm and cool most of the time, but last night was unbearable.

I have class from 4pm to 7pm and then from 7pm to 10pm. It's a pain in my ass considering I also have to go to work that day. I'm not asking for pity, but I am requesting that the skinny man in my 7-10 class stop eating Del Taco in front of my fat ass.

I have problems eating...I know, sounds strange, but I do. I basically starve myself a lot of the time...not on purpose. I'm usually on the verge of throwing up. I'm nauseous about, let's say, 70% of the time. It's a vicious cycle. I can't eat because I'm nauseous, but I'm nauseous because I haven't eaten. I've tried everything for it: Forcing myself to eat breakfast, drinking tea, ginger...whatever they have on the market, I've tried. I'm pretty sure it stems from my anxiety and therefore, that's how my body deals with it.

But, last night, after not eating since lunch time and around 9pm, this guy broke out Del Taco. I've never had Del Taco, but I've never seen such an amazing advertisement. This guy, who probably thought nothing of it, ate these tacos slowly and made them look amazing. And, I hated him. I hated him for being skinny. I hated him for being able to eat Del Taco in public and not worry what people think of him. I hated him because I was starving, but on the verge of throwing up as well.

I envied his skinny, Del Taco eating, non nauseous life.

FAT P.W.T

I used to drive a very old car. It was my baby and I loved it. It took very good care of me. And, one night, it even broke down between my house and a AAA truck so I wouldn't have to worry about getting home. How sweet is that? But, what I didn't know was that even my car had a secret. I thought we shared everything, but I was wrong because when the AAA man opened my hood, I finally learned the truth about my car:

It had an eating disorder.

My car had been eating packages of dried Campbell's soup. Chicken noodle and tomato and had been drinking powered iced tea to wash it down.

I know what you're thinking. My car doesn't eat anything but gas and that I'm crazy, but it's true...well, the part about the AAA man finding packets of dried soup and iced tea is true. And maybe I left out the part where the AAA man questioned me about said packets of dried food because he thought I had put them there hoping the engine would cook them and I could chow down???? My theory happens to be rats in my car dragging the soup into my warm engine so they could feast amongst warmth and class.

But, the AAA man wouldn't let up on his theory about me being a little piggy. A poor, white trash piggy who couldn't wait to go upstairs to eat so I had to cook dehydrated soup on my cars engine.

Alas, the car died and I got a new one, but this car doesn't have an eating disorder.

Holy Shit

I want to get a high colonic. I've wanted one for a while. I have many reasons.

1. I feel that with all the junk I've put into my body, my colon needs a good cleaning
2. I often feel sick in my tummy and think it's caused by residue.
3. It looks very interesting
4. You can lose like, 8lbs doing nothing but laying there!

So, I have a trip planned to NY to visit Lindsey sometime at the end of this month, maybe early next month. We want to get colonics.

I'm a little nervous because I don't know much about them. While I will do my research before hand, the thing I'm most worried about right now is being on foreign ground while getting one. I'm willing to take the risk though.

My main concern, though, is very simple. I don't want anyone massaging my belly. I don't want anyone ever to touch my belly. I've been in relationships that lasted years without the guy ever touching my belly. And, that's the way I like it. My belly is sacred ground.

When they preform the colonic, you lay in fetal position with a tube up your ass. Now while I don't find that a pleasant sounding thing, the part that I'm deathly afraid of and wish I could avoid is the part where the person that preforms the colonic massages your belly to get the stomach active so the shit will come out. I'm wondering if I can ask to do this part myself. Odds are that it's not going to work out like that.

Another thing is, this person will know what I've eaten. There is no lying to this person. I will have to admit that I drink diet coke all day long and get maybe only 2 glasses of water in. Yes, she will know my love all things fried and the fact that the only fiber I get is consumed by accident.

So, I'm going to suck it up. I'm going to get that colonic, (one day), and I'm going to let some stranger massage my belly. Then I can lay back and relax while she tells me that I've ruined my body forever because I can't get enough cheeseburgers down my throat.

Drivers LIEcense

I recently had to go to the DMV to get a new drivers license because I lost mine. That meant I had to take a new picture which sort of bummed me out because I liked my old picture. It made me look pretty and not so fat.

My old drivers license said I weighed 135. Obviously, this was a lie. So, while I was filling out the form to obtain a new license, I thought that I would be more honest and truthful, so I put 150.

Then I started to think, "What if something happened to me and they used my ID to describe me?" I could see it now on the 10 o'clock news about how this girl was missing, 5'7", brown hair, 150lbs... and no one would think it was me. Sadly, I didn't erase the 150 and took my chances that if they did use my ID, I'd never be found.

Last night I asked Lindsey how much her drivers license said she weighed. She said, and I quote, "150 pounds of course" and I replied, "Me too!"

So, Lindsey and I now weigh the same and we think we're hot shit.

Oh, So Tiny!

Last week I went to get my nails done. Nothing too eventful happened, until the manicurist, who I swear says mean things to me in a different language to her other peeps in the salon, commented on my hands.

I have little hands. Little, chubby, and I wear a rather large ring size (12.5). And, for some reason, I have tiny nails. My pinkie nail looks like that of a baby. Tiny and little...never thought I'd describe anything on my body like that.

While she was finishing my nails she called some other girls over to look. I thought it was because she had done such a good job. I've been going to her for about a year and have always enjoyed her work, but then all the girls started laughing and, in a thick Vietnamese accent, said:

"So tiny! Like baby hands! Chubby, little baby hands!"

I'm 20-something years old. I really don't think my hands look like that of a child's, but they couldn't get enough of it.

This brought me back to another time when I was getting a pedicure there. The pedicurist, (is that a real word?), told me that my legs, (which have a lovely shape I must admit), are like pillows!? I don't really understand what she meant, but I'm thinking that she meant that my calves are fat and therefore, like a pillow, nice and plump.

I'm wondering if I should switch places. I feel really uncomfortable there now. I don't really go there to get feedback on how pillow-like my legs are or how "little/chubby" my hands are. I know they're making fun of me and I know it's because I'm fat.

Stop The Insanity

About 4 holiday seasons ago, my brother and I went to shop for a gift for my mother. As we were shopping, my brother, who is 51/2 years older than me ran into a girl he went he was friends with in high school. I always liked this girl because she was, well, fat. But, when I saw her this time, she wasn't fat and I was floored. When we walked away I asked my brother what the hell was up and he told me that she had gone to Over-eaters Anonymous and that it had changed her life.

Now, I'm ready to jump on any sort of band wagon in order to lose weight. I'm still wondering why it can't be chopped off with scissors. So, of course I went online to find the closest OA meeting to my home and went.

I expected it to be a bunch of fat people lamenting about food, but what I found was quite different. There were some fat people there, but there were also skinny people, lots of them. I never really thought about skinny people having problems with over-eating because if I were thin, and eating didn't cause me to gain weight, then, well, I might never leave my room, but I guess that's why they were there.

I also never expected there to be classifications onto which you could be addicted. When the people got up there to speak, they'd introduce themselves and say what they were addicted to.

Mine would go something like this:

"Hi, I'm Emily and I'm addicted to food."

But theirs went something like this:

"Hi, I'm "so and so" and I'm a sugar, white flour, partially hydrogenated soy bean oil addict"

Huh?

I never thought my eating could be broken down into things that I was truly addicted to. I'd choose something savoury over sweet any day of the week. So, I guess I'm not a sugar addict. Probably a carb addict, dairy addict, fried addict, but not sugar, maybe white flour.

At one point during the meeting they ask all the newcomers to come up and say hi. Usually, I'm not so keen on this, but I felt a sort of solidarity with these people, so I went up and said hello. As I was walking back to my seat a guy even gave me a high five. Did I stumble upon a new hunting ground for vulnerable fat men?

As the meeting progressed we were introduced to that weeks speaker. She was a sugar addict, white flour addict and told us stories about how she would hit up different bakeries and say that she was picking up a dozen or so pastries for parties. I have to say that this was my favorite part of the meeting. I love, love, love stories about binging, but, it got me thinking about how food is actually an addiction and I had to stop and ponder.

Could an addiction to food be worse than an addiction to a drug or alcohol? I think so. An alcoholic can quit and never have to be around alcohol again. Same with a drug addict. But, we HAVE to eat everyday. Not matter what, I have to put a certain amount of food in my mouth in order to sustain life. And, I think that sucks. It's basically telling an alcoholic to only drink a certain amount of alcohol in a day and not to go over his allotted portion. That's hard.

Anyway, I really liked OA and I wonder why, now I don't go back. Probably because I'm a tad bit lazy and the only meeting I know of conflicts with my Weight Watchers. How ironic is that!?

I've Got A Brown Belt In Eating

So, I thought every fat girl had it, but according to Lindsey, she doesn't have one and therefore, not everyone does. What am I talking about? A brown belt. No, not like karate. Like, on my skin. I've dubbed this discoloration my brown belt for a long time, and after a talk with Lindsey yesterday, (whose computer is down and out), I realized that not only have I given myself this brown belt, but I've deformed my body.

My brown belt lies at the belly button part of my stomach. It looks, well, like a brown belt of some sorts. Lindsey, being the detective she is, finally told me that the reason I have a brown belt, is because my pants are too tight and therefore they are rubbing against my body and leaving their mark. And, because my pants are too tight, I've basically deformed my body. But, this didn't make any sense to me. I can button my pants and therefore they fit, right? Wrong. This seems funny to me because I've always had a problem with fat girls wearing clothes that don't fit. I hate seeing shirts where it looks like the buttons are holding on for dear life or pants that have a horrible popover of flesh. I didn't think I had this problem ever. I guess I was wrong.

What I have done is taken a lovely fat belly and made it into two fat bellies. I call them my 1st floor and my 2nd floor. My tits are the attic and well, my nether regions are the basement. I hate my 1st and 2nd floor. I wouldn't mind it so much if it was just a one story home, but a two story house, I'm not so thrilled with. Because I've worn tight pants, I have molded my body into having this 2 story home, like a balloon that has been squeezed in the middle and the markings and shape are left. Is it too late to mold my body back into a 1 story home? I don't know. But, I guess it's time to say goodbye to the Gap online section next time I need a new pair of jeans.

The thing I didn't understand about the way my pants were fitting was, at first, they were/are too tight, but, after a few initial squats, (yeah, you know what I'm talking about), my jeans would loosen up and after a few wearings without washing, they go on without me having to hold my breath in. So, I figured that's how pants are supposed to fit.

Cue the sound of the "Wrong" buzzer.

Because of this theory I had, I'm now left deformed and discolored. As a fatty, I should just know better...but now I'm basically screwed.

Wanted: Beer Bellies

These are a few of my favorite things:

Nice sheets with high thread count
Bad television
Vacations
Fat Men...I love fat men

I have always been attracted to fat men. I think that even if I was skinny, I'd still love fat men. I've tried to be open about this. I didn't think it was fair to discriminate based on weight. I mean, come on, how hypocritical would that be? But, when I tried to date a man who was much smaller than me, a whole world opened up.

I went out on a date with a very nice man. He was smart, funny and we had a very nice time together. We went to dinner and then went back to my house to watch a movie. It was when we started to make out when I had this realization. He took his shirt off and I caught a glimpse of his tiny waist, which obviously isn't a bad thing, but I just didn't find it attractive. And I got uncomfortable and thus, that ended our evening.

I thought about this for a while. He was very nice, but the attraction element was missing. I was still yearning and longing for a large man. And coming to this realization has helped me out a lot. I understand now that the men who don't find me attractive because of my weight are right in doing so because they just don't find that element of me attractive. If they're not finding me attractive because of social stigmas, well, that's just wrong and a different story. But, I have come to understand that people have different tastes and that fat girls might not be on their lists of things to do. It's nice to know what you like and anyone should feel free to go after what they want.

I feel very free about this new found look on life. It's very empowering. And, to all the fat men out there in Los Angeles: I'm single and looking to mingle. And, if you're in New York, give Lindsey a nice little shout out...she likes the biggens too.

Why Size 16 Should Not Be Allowed At Lane Bryant

I'm having a bit of a personal crisis. I have a baby shower to go to. Actually, I have two baby showers to go to and I'm the host of one of them. That's not the crisis per-say, the crisis is what I'm going to wear.

I recently raided my closet in an attempt to throw everything and anything that didn't fit out. I'm left with 3 t shirts, 2 pairs of jeans and 47 pairs of drawstring fat girl sweats. None of these are suitable for a baby shower. My heart rate increases just thinking about it and yesterday, while I was at work, it really started to freak me out. I'm about to go to a baby shower with nothing to wear and all the ladies that will be there are a size 6 and under...and they're all tiny. I don't know how my sister in law (who the baby shower is for), could find such tiny little friends, but, I'm starting to not like her for it.

I called Mary up and made an emergency plan to head to Lane Bryant after work. I had looked at their website and thought I could put something not too horrible together. I was pumped. So, when we got there, I picked up some items and headed for the dressing room. (Note to all the ladies out there, the LB has some really cute oxford shirts right now).

Anyway, I'm trying things on realizing that I'm no longer a size 20 when the girl in the next room starts celebrating and screaming to her shopping buddy.

It went like this:

"Stacey, I'm in a 16! Can you believe it!"

"Aw, Sam, I'm so proud of you, that's so awesome!"

And then I went in my head:

"Can't I just shop in fucking peace!"

I mean really, I just realized that my size 20 skirt was too damn tight and that I would have to be bumped to a size 22 and I was in a mini-depression from it. Last thing I needed to hear was two girls bragging about their awesome weight loss. And they kept going on, and on and on about all this weight loss. Weight loss this, weight loss that, drinking cranberry juice, fruits are nature's candy...blah blah blah.

I know I sound bitter. I know the girls weren't bragging, but were actually really proud of themselves. If it was me, I'd do the same. But, it wasn't me. And there I was 2 sizes up from what I thought I was and I was sad and nothing was fitting me right and I had visions of skinny girls in flowing skirts and tank tops pointing and laughing at me.

I must also add that they sell size 16 clothes at the Gap, etc. So, I don't think they should be allowed at Lane Bryant because it makes me feel badly. I know it wasn't a personal attack, but if they didn't sell a size 16 that wouldn't have happened, catch my drift?

I've decided that to look my best, I must be as comfortable as possible. So, I've decided to wear some jeans and if I can find a cute top, I'll try wearing that too. Actually, I've decided that I wanted to wear a cute polo, but the only polo's that fit me are men's polo's, so that sucks right off the bat. Seems that I can't keep up with the Joneses if I'm fat and I'm just going to have to accept that. How fucked up is that!

New Study: Chocolate Induces Amnesia

Everyday around the same time I get up from my desk and go get the mail which is in the office basement. Yesterday was like no other. I got up from my desk, grabbed the key and started to walk down my long office hallway to the elevators. But, on my way down the hallway, like being struck my lighting, I had an idea...I wanted a 3 Musketeers Candy Bar.

I thought about this chocolate bar all the way down the hallway, while waiting for the elevator, while in the elevator and finally, when I reached the office building's cafe. I was psyched. A whole chocolate bar all for me. I paid Jesse, the nice man behind the counter, and left promptly to eat my glorious chocolate.

As I stepped out of the cafe I viciously opened up the wrapper and started munching down, pressed the button for the elevator and hopped on. While devouring my chocolate, I reached my floor, got off and walked back into my office, mouth filled with milk chocolate and nougat. I was in heaven.

And then my boss asked me where the mail was.

I Might Have A Weight Problem

Yesterday I went to the gynecologist and boy what fun it was! Going to the doctor means one thing for me: Getting weighed in.

I always expect some sort of comment on my weight. I think this keeps me from being the full fledged hypochondriac that I know I could be if only I was at a decent weight. I’d go to the doctor for a hangnail if I didn’t think he’d tell me I had the hangnail because I was fat. Yesterday proved no different.

The first thing they did was weigh me. And, because I’m creepy, I started taking my flip flops off as if that would make me weigh any less. I noticed the nurse look at me, obviously thinking the same as me. Like these flip flops weigh 50 lbs or something and are really going to make a difference in my weight. So, I cracked a joke about the flip flops making me pounds lighter. The nurse didn’t find it funny. Obviously, she’s not as funny as I am. Poor her.

When I finally got into the examining room, the unfunny nurse handed me the paper dress that was supposed to fit but so, so, so obviously didn’t. I learned my lesson from last year that the short coat should be worn backwards so that it “closed” in the back. This didn’t help at all because the thing was so short that I looked like a football player with my tits covered but my big belly hanging out. Then I tried to cover my lap with tiny paper hand towel she gave me which I guess is supposed to wrap around my body? I’ve decided that my new business venture is going to be plus sized smocks. I’m going to be a billionaire!

So, the doctor finally came in and the first thing she asks me is if I’m comfortable at my weight. I told her the truth that no, I wasn’t and that yes, I was trying to lose the weight but everyday is a struggle…as if I’m an alcoholic…but I guess I’m an eataholic. She also went ape-shit when I told her that I was on weight watchers, (which isn’t true), and told me how many of her friends love it and have lost weight, blah blah blah. The doctor was skinny, so she can go fuck herself.

Sadly enough, she didn’t stop there. She went on to tell me that if I stay at my current weight and try to get pregnant, it will be very hard. And, because it will be so hard I will need to take insulin shots everyday to make my body think I’m diabetic because supposedly diabetics are more fertile. I already think I’m a diabetic, (see that part above about me being a hypochondriac), but I didn’t think things were this bad. Thankfully, I am in no way getting preggers any time soon, so I’m going to try to stash that info away in the back of my brain like I do with all unpleasant things like me ordering garlic bleu cheese fries this past weekend.

I do want to note, she was very, very nice and I think she's a good doctor, but I feel doctors bring my weight up as if I didn't realize I was fat. It's not invisible. It's not a tumor I can't see lodged in my gut...I'm fat. I know this.

All in all, having her stick things up me while I was spread eagle on the table turned out to be better than having her tell me I was going to be a diabetic mother…if I can conceive at all that is.

The SAVE LINDSEY CAMPAIGN

So, Lindsey has been hanging out with this guy we went to high school with and who recently moved to NY. Thing is, I hate this guy. Lindsey tells me not to hate because it's a waste of energy, but if I didn't put in any energy hating this guy, I'd never get any exercise.

This guy and Lindsey are just friends, and they've been friends for a long time. But, this guy is an asshole. Even she will confirm that he is an asshole. And he hates fatties!!!

How can a person who is fat hang out with a fatty hater? I asked Lindsey this, and she came back with the fact that I do hang out with Laura...but, at the same time, I feel that Laura, in a sick way, understands eating disorders, so, in your face Lindsey! This guy SO doesn't get it.

One time in high school I was at a party and was talking to the asshole. At this time I knew he was an asshole, but I didn't know what a fatty hater he was. It was then when he asked me, an equally fat person, why Lindsey was so fat? Couldn't she just stop eating?

First, I was like, are you seriously asking ME this? And then I thought, Lindsey is one of his best friends and he's acting like, surprise, an asshole. Lindsey never asked me why he was such an asshole and couldn't he just stop being an asshole? So, with that, I really started to hate this boy.

And now he lives in NY and has been hanging out with Lindsey. Funny enough, he's there to sell some kind of potato pastry he came up with and thinks he's going to make it big doing this. Funny how a fatty hater is going to try to sell food. What's he going to do, put up a sign saying fatties really shouldn't eat his potato concoction because fatties shouldn't eat?

So, I want to save Lindsey! Not only did she not call me this weekend because she was busy hanging out with the asshole, which hurts my fat feelings more than she will ever know, but I feel he's going to manipulate her into quitting school so she can work in his van mashing potatoes all day long.

Giddy Up, Fatty Part Deux

On my recent vacation, I also went to DisneyWorld. I was happy to learn that I had not yet outgrown the rides. This was a big relief considering I thought I was way over the limit and was eager to prove that hypothesis true. But I knew I was in good luck when I spotted a "larger than me" man in one of the rides while I was in line.

Also, and the basis for this post, I ate dinner at a restaurant in one of DisneyWorld's resorts. The theme of the restuarant was very laid back, very geared for kids and very cute actually. Waiters and waitress would yell across the room at each other, they'd play games with the diners and their children. I give the reastaurant a very high review also because the food was excellent.

In reference to the cuteness of the restaurant, a little girl was celebrating her birthday. The servers all came over with chocolate cake, did a cute bit and left. The chocolate cake looked amazing. My aunt thought so too.

Not 3 minutes later she was telling the waitress that it was my birthday in hopes for free chocolate cake.

And not 7 minutes later did our waitress come over to me with a hobby horse and a microphone announcing to the whole restaurant that it was my birthday. Then she demanded that I ride that hobby horse around the restaurant while I sing happy birthday to myself.

I looked at my aunt and wanted to kill her. I don't blame her for wanting the chocolate cake. We all wanted the chocolate cake, but are you kidding me?

I guess the bad karma of lying skipped my aunt and landed on me because not only did I have to ride a hobby horse around the restaurant while singing happy birthday to myself, but no chocolate cake was ever delivered to our table. It was a very sad meal.

Back and Much Fatter

How could I have ever complained about being fat before this cruise??? Whatever I was before sounds awesome compared to what I am now. 3 servings of food a day, each with 4 courses each, that's like, what? The equivalent to 80 meals a day. Not to mention the room service that had these amazing cookies. I could go on and on. But, I would say my favorite part of the cruise was the tureen of butter I was served, twice, when I devoured 4 lobster tails, on two separate occasions. Yummo.

Things I did on my cruise:

I wore a bathing suit in public. This wasn't that bad. I mean, it was bad, but things could have been a lot worse. Anyone who has ever been on a cruise knows what I'm talking about. It's like fatty nation there. I felt svelte compared to some I saw. I might move onto a cruise ship in order to feel like this forever.

But, I got a little cocky in my bathing suit. While at a resort in St. Thomas I was offered a free SCUBA lesson. Sounded great. If whales can be underwater, so could I. But, whales don't have to wear the SCUBA gear. I saw the equipment was too small immediately, but it was too late to refuse the instructors services. Instead, I tried to pretend it didn't fit because my boobs were too big. I showed him how it almost fit, and if my large boobs weren't so big, it would fit. I was coming from the logic of it's perfectly fine to have big tits, it's not okay to be fat. I went sort of like this:

"See Mr. SCUBA man, see...damn, I wish my boobs weren't so big so that I could learn to SCUBA dive...oh well."

Humiliation set in when he showed me that the equipment wasn't meant to fit around socially acceptable large boobs, it was meant to fit around my socially unacceptable fat belly. And it didn't fit. And he was embarrassed. And I was embarrassed. And that's all I have to say about that.

On my cruise I also wore a sleeveless shirt. This was a big deal for me. But, even surrounded by fatties much bigger than me, I still felt awkward and I don't think it's something that I could get used to. There is now also documentation that I wore a sleeveless shirt. I will do all I can to destroy this evidence.

On the topic of evidence, Carnival cruise lines is getting a letter. In another ploy to get you to spend more money, the cruise line video tapes all the goings-on on the ship, makes a vacation diary of it, packages and sells it to anyone willing to buy it. Things that are taped include all the ports you went to, some of the shows on the cruise, and the events they put on. Events they put on while people innocently try to get tan because darker skin makes you look slimmer and although they never get into a bathing suit they bravely did so thinking in no way would there be documentation of it that plays continuously on a loop in each stateroom to promote to all the other cruisers to buy this horrible idea of a cruise video diary! Whew. That was like a work out.


Speaking of working out, my cousin in law, who went on the cruise as well, is also getting a letter. Not really, but if I had the balls I would. Note to all the skinny folk out there: Don’t ask fat people on a seven day eating binge if they want to go work out on the ships gym. Don’t tell then how you ran up a hill for 45 minutes. Don’t discuss how when all of you get back we’re going to work out as a family. And don’t comment that lobster tastes just as good without the butter! It doesn’t. I’ve tried. Once.

Emily, Come Home

I, Lindsey, started school last week and am in the process of moving (yet again!!!), thus I have not had any time to write a posting. Emily needs to come home NOW! I miss her lots ... most of the time.

I just wanted to give a quick shout out to one of my favorite new TV shows ,"Weeds". I actually don't have TV of any kind, but I Tivo this show at my friends house and I enjoy it every week. It's about a single suburban mom who sells pot to sustain herself and her family. Why am I mentioning this on a blog about 2 fat girls? Well, this weeks episode used two of my favorite fat slang words: Fatty McFat AND Skinny-Fat! I nearly yelped when I heard it!

Skinny-Fat is a term to describe a fat person stuck in a skinny body. We used to tease our friend Laura and call her a skinny-fat. I believe that I can revoke Laura's use of the term. Honestly, she's just skinny. And no, that's not a compliment in our book.

Of Titanic Proportions

I, Emily, am leaving for a cruise and will not be back for 11 whole days. I'm a little nervous.

1. I don't like flying. It's so incredibly uncomfortable and the seat belt barely fits. I fear that soon I'm going to have to get one of those extender things.

2. Wearing a BATHING SUIT! I figure this is a cruise, and cruises are filled with fat people, so hopefully, I'll be just a medium fatty there.

3. Practically non-stop eating. My research has proven that there is a midnight chocolate buffet. And at one special dinner, you can have two lobster tails. I'm just a bit nervous about that...the non-stop eating. Kid=Me, Candystore=Cruise Buffets. Me in a Candystore is 100% sick the entire time.

4. Going with family, who are all overweight, except my cousin's wife, creeps me out a bit because it's like we're the fat family. "Emily Fat. Nice to meet you."

So, hopefully I'll come back with hilarious tales about how I made the ship tilt by jumping or how I lined my purse with ziploc baggies so I could load up at the buffets.

Preparation: A Dance

Lindsey says I do an excellent job, but I feel she is far superior to me. She takes her time, gets things set up in perfect order, and has precise execution. It's a dance if you ask me. Preparing our food is a time honored tradition. I'm not talking about the actually preparation of the food, the cooking, the cleaning...I'm talking about preparation after the preparation.

Take sushi for example. Sushi takes a lot of preparation because the ratio of food to sides is high. Sushi has the soy sauce, the eel sauce, the incredibly amazing spicy mayo and the ginger. Each of these sides must take their place in an assembly line of goodness. Same goes with any feast that includes sauces. Sauces are of most importance. Fries, sandwiches, salads, etc., all need sauces, different sauces, combined sauces, sauces, sauces, sauces. Some sauces are dressings, some are dipping, but all are sauces and all make or break a meal.

A list of Sauces

Ranch
Bleu Cheese
Sweet and Sour
Teriyaki
Ketchup
Gourmet (such as pesto mayo, sun dried tomato, etc.)
Mayo
Tarter Sauce
Melted Butter
BBQ
And a mixture of any of the above
This is only the top of the iceberg

So, once Lindsey and I pick up our meal from the restaurant and are home, safe and sound, the preparation begins.

The essentials:

• Eating Tray (this is any hard surface that easily fits on your lap to make a table)
  
• Napkins (very important as I haven't eaten one meal in my life without something dripping on my breast shelf)
  
• Drinks (drinks are just as important as the meal itself. The wrong combination is deadly, We usually stick to Coke)
  
• Utensils (can't eat without them...well, I've tried and it's just not pretty)
  
• Proper Sauce Containers (anything that will accommodate your sauces without having them touch and commingle, unless wanted)
  
• TV

With these essentials, you are bound to have a good eating experience.

Lindsey really does a great job with the sushi prep. She combines the right amount of wasabi with the perfect amount of soy sauce. It's as if she went to The Julliard School to learn such moves. I'm pretty good myself, and I'm a pretty slow eater, so I can keep things rather organized. Lindsey doesn't like that I'm such a slow eater, but I figure if I'm going to do it, I'm going to do it right.

In conclusion, it's important to say that while the preparation after the preparation is important, the best preparation is having Lindsey by my side. Aww...

Fat Nose

I was with Laura the other day watching television. Some random commercial came on and she commented on how pretty the girl was. I didn't really think she was pretty. To me, her nose was too big. But, I couldn't say that in front of Laura, because Laura has issues with her nose. It's not an ugly nose, but it's on the larger side. I almost said something, but didn't because I thought it would make her feel uncomfortable.

Not ten minutes had passed when Laura commented that a certain actress was a "fat ass". WHA? Did she say that in front of me? Yes. And thus, I'm writing this post.

It has come to my attention that there really is no taboo on fatness. Heaven forbid I comment on a girls ugly nose and make Laura feel badly, but it's perfectly okay for the "f" word to be thrown around like it's the word telephone. Really. Come on now.

The other day in my office, my bosses brother, who is one of the most obnoxious men I have ever met was having a conversation with another guy in my office. I call him Hollywood, because, well, he used to work in the business and still acts like it. Annoying if you ask me. Anyway, Hollywood and Boss' Brother were talking, neither one of them being very large, when all of a sudden they started to talk about fat chicks...in front of me.

They discussed how they wouldn't date a fatty. They talked about what size was too big (anything over a size 8), etc. This went on for a good 20 minutes, all in front of me. What is going on here?

I'd like to know why people feel that it's okay to talk about being fat in front of fat people!? I feel like I'm a really considerate person, but the next time Laura comments on a girls fatness...I'm heading to her nose.

It'll go something like this:

Laura: She'd be cute if she lost 15lbs
Me: At least her nose isn't big...she has that going for her.

Teach her to call someone fat in front of a fat girl!

Too Fat To Eat

Last week I got a call from my cousin's wife asking me to join them for dinner to celebrate my cousin's birthday. Dinner would be held at Dan Tanas, a cool, old school, hip west hollywood, four money sign kind of place. Ever since I saw a picture of Jennifer Aniston coming out of the restaurant, I've wanted to go. This was my chance. Seize the day!

When I arrived at the restaurant, I saw my cousins, my brother and his wife. Reservations were at 9 pm. The current time was 8:59 pm.

Now, Dan Tanas is small. I'm guessing it's for atmosphere that they cram probably a zillion people in the tiny space filled with teeny Beverly Hills women with huge hair. There was not one fat girl in the restaurant. Great. I also notice that the booths are very, very small. Wonderful. Small and cramped seemed to be the theme of the restaurant.

I didn't think the problem would be me not fitting between me and the table, or the fact that it was a booth, what worried me was how we were going to fit 6 people in this tiny booth. I'll give you the run down of the family that was there:


Cousin #1: If he lost 20lbs, he'd be thin.
Cousin #2: Big boy
Cousin #1's Wife: About 5'6" and probably weighs around 120. Fake boobs and nose.
Brother: The perfect child is, well, perfect
Sister-in-law: pregnant and still a 10th of me.
Me: Well, this is my blog isn't it?

I noticed that we had been waiting for a while. My watch read 9:20 and still no table. Then, the matre de came over and apologized, it was going to be a while, but he gave us a round of drinks, so we didn't seem to care. But, when 10:10 hit, we got pretty restless. When cousin #1 pointed out to the matre de that others were seated at booths before us, the matre de responded that since we were a larger group, (as he taps Cousin #2 on the belly), we probably wouldn't fit in those booths and that we were, in fact, waiting for a table with chairs.

Oh My God.

Now, I see that these booths hold 6 people, because there's a group of 6 in the corner...and cousin #1 and wife aren't big, and the perfect child and his wife obviously aren't big, so it was basically my fault, with cousin #2 help, that we were not able to be seated for over an hour.

As Lindsey once touched upon in an earlier post, I don't think I'm as fat as I probably am. I don't feel huge. I'm self conscious about it, but I also see a lot bigger out there on a daily basis. I then looked at my cousin. He's not super huge to me...his pannus couldn't possibly be very big...seriously, what's the problem here?

Problem is I'm fat and he's fat and we're probably about 2 people a piece. That would be trying to fit 8 people into a booth that uncomfortably seats 6. That's a problem.

Long story short, we finally found a table that could accommodate us all. I blew $52 on the chicken marsala which tasted like chicken dipped in maple syrup. Cousin #1 ordered a dish called the Dabney Coleman, who coincidentally was there and still never managed to thank my cousin for ordering his name sake. Needless to say, a fine night was had by all.

Someone Doesn't Like Us -or- I Want a Muffin Right Now

So, it finally happened, we got our first official piece of "hate" mail today! I can't believe it didn't happen weeks ago. I feel like we have officially joined the blogging community now! (Why is it that negative comments make me feel welcome?) I am shocked that all of the other comments and emails we have gotten have been really positive and supportive, and I feel like a lot of our readers get what we are doing here and what our posts are about. However, it seems that more than 4 of you are reading this blog, and the 5th person does not recommend Trident. We got a rather cold email regarding what a reader views as the message of our site. This posting is not just a response to her, but a general "thesis" about what the message of our blog is .

This is what her email said:

When I briefly visited this site, I could not figure out what the point of it was. My impression, possibly superficial (I am a bit pressed for time today), was that it seemed to suggest that everything in a fat person's life is about the inconveniences of being fat. I know that is not true of myself and not true of many other fat people I know, regardless of how large they are.

However, whatever the purpose of the site, it would seem more appropriate to use photos of yourselves on the site instead of photos of other fat people,especially if those photos show the fat people in rather unflattering poses.And in addition to being more appropriate, there is a liability question in using photos of people without permission - if they decide to take legal measures, it could get to be rather a difficult situation for you folks.Generally speaking, photos of individuals might not come under the "fair use" protection.

Finally and this is only my opinion but in answer to your quest for feedback, you might want to ask yourself, "will this site create awareness and respect for fat people or will it reinforce the stereotypes of fat people we hear about in the news all too often?" I don't know what the answer to that question is, but speaking ONLY for myself, when I visited the site, if it was supposed to make me respect fat people as productive,BEAUTIFUL members of our society, I somehow missed the point - this could have been my fault, t'is true but if I missed the point, perhaps other visitors might miss the point also....
Best, Emily's Least Favorite Person Of the Moment

There were actually links to, funnily enough, weight loss and obesity surgery links at the end of the email, but I didn't include them because of the "liability" issues involved...but how funny is that??? If everything about being fat is positive and there are no inconveniences, then why include that at the end?

First off, and because we fully appreciate constructive criticism, we did take down the pics on the site. Girl had a point. If you want to see pictures of fat bellies or a pannus or before and after weight loss pictures (my personal favorite), I recommend typing those keywords into Google, sifting through the random stuff, and having yourself a picture fest...

But back to the point:We have a few things to say in response to the email...First, this is OUR site. It's a site about us and our life experiences largely pertaining to being fat girls. We are not role models. We are not a typical "fat acceptance" site. We are not here to make a statement about all fat people.What we are doing is giving you a little piece of our lives. We are honest, sometimes brutally so, but we are going to continue telling the truth about our lives, and if you don't like the message, then I guess it's time to move onto the next blog that is giving you what you want to hear.

While I did just say that this isn't a "typical" fat acceptance site, I want to say that I do believe this blog does represent a form of fat activism. I think that by writing about our fat lives, whether the writings be positive or negative, we are giving a voice to fatness. No, not all people will like what our voices are saying, but just getting our experiences out into cyberland is, in my opinion a feminist and revolutionary act.

We aren't going to tell you that we like being fat, because we don't. On the other hand, we aren't doing anything to rectify our fat problems, so we live daily as fat girls, and are trying to live the best lives we can. LET ME CLARIFY SOMETHING: We are not a healthy or curvy size 12, 14, 16, 0r 18. If we were, let me tell you, this would be a much different blog. There is a difference between societies' obsession with thinness and it's need to label the size 10 models in the Dove ad's "plus sized", and feeling old and broken at the age of 24 because fat and gravity aren't friends.

Neither of us feels like we are at our ideal weight. And, neither of us want to be skinny, but we aren't satisfied with the state of our bodies at the moment. There are fat sites both advocating obesity and/or spreading the fat and proud message. To the fat and proud, I say, "right on"! We, however, are not proud, and I don't think there is anything wrong with that either.

The email seems to saying that being fat isn't an inconvenience. I’m calling her on her bullshit. Not a day goes by where I am not inconvenienced by my weight, be it emotionally or physically. If I weren't fat I wouldn't have to:

• Make sure there is enough room between me car and the car next to me to make sure the door opens up wide enough for me to get out or in.
• Actually have to evaluate a chair to make sure it won’t break or is big enough to accommodate me.
• Shop at specialized stores which are really expensive and hidden at the back of the mall.
• Worry that the elevator is broken.
• Worry about telling someone off that has cut me off on the freeway because how horrible would it be if they called you a “fat bitch”.
• Pretend that I'm on the phone with a friend so the person taking my meal order won’t think I'm actually eating all of that!
• Worry that I'm breathing too heavy.
• Loathe shopping with my friends because I can’t participate in the fun of the try-on room.
• Lift my folds of fat so I can clean under them.

So, "will this site create awareness and respect for fat people or will it reinforce the stereotypes of fat people we hear about in the news all too often"? Create awareness: Yes. Create respect: You tell us. Reinforce stereotypes: Maybe.

But we’re not here to fight anyone’s fight. We’re just here to write some funny stories about what has happened to us and how we feel about this modern society where, yes, being thin is in. We’re not here to upset anyone or to enforce a stereotype. But, we won’t lie either. It’s hard being fat. But, as long as we are fat, why not make the most of it.

Fatty vs. Fatty

There is a civil war going on and it’s happening on super-market aisles and in restaurants across the nation. Fat girls are giving each other the stare down.

There are two things that fat girls do when they see another fat girl, they scan their target and then they ask the question that I, Emily, have asked myself probably more than a million times in my life, “am I bigger than her?”

I have my friends and family well trained. It’s come to the point where I don’t have to ask verbally anymore. A cock of the eye and my mother knows what I’m saying.

Am I fatter than that girl?

In an ideal world I wouldn’t be fat, but in this world I would settle for just giving another fatty a high five when I see her instead of making myself feel better by convincing myself that I haven’t gotten that big. And sometimes, I really don’t know.

I’ll stand directly behind a fat girl and see whose shadow I can see cast on the floor. I don’t mean this in a malicious way, but I question the other fat girls out there.

I recently was out shopping for groceries when I spotted a fat girl walking towards me on the aisle. She was in fact larger than me. I didn’t need a shadow to tell me that. And, as she passed me, she gave me the most devilish look I have ever gotten. I didn’t sleep with her baby’s daddy, I didn’t take the last bag of Cool Ranch Doritos, so what on heaven’s earth could I have done to receive a look like that?

Duh, I was “thinner” than her.

So, I’m putting it out there. I want this civil war to stop. We’re fat. I’m fat, you’re fat. I don't care if I'm 20lbs smaller because in our case, 20lbs is like the burger I had for lunch today.

So, next time you see me, or next time I see you, instead of giving me the stare down, give me a high five…maybe we could even come up with a secret fatty handshake.

FAT GIRLS AREN'T ALWAYS FUNNY: Sometimes they're petty and gross...

Oprah is showing reruns this week...and because our fan base is like 10 times what hers is, I thought I would try to perk up her ratings today and send a few of you her way.

Today's Oprah features a woman named Stacey Halprin. Oprah has been following her weight loss story for a while and if I had Tivo I would record her journey every step of the way. (On a side note, I barely have basic cable and Jeopardy comes in all fuzzy so I can't even read the questions).

I don't enjoy Stacey for the reasons you may think. Sure, she used to weigh 550 lbs and lost a bunch of weight, but I am no longer inspired by other people's weight loss. I know people can lose weight. I know how to lose weight. When and if I want to, I will lose weight. So, no, it's not inspiration I enjoy ... it's the pictures and descriptions she uses to describe the effects of losing such a massive amount of weight in such a short time.

See, Stacey had gastric bypass surgery and because of how much weight she lost, the fact that she had been nearly immobile, and how fast she lost the weight, Stacey ended up with pounds and pounds of hanging flesh. She described her post weight loss body as literally looking like her skin was melting off. Indeed the pictures Oprah shows of Stacy show a body encased in hanging folds of loose skin, almost like a jumpsuit of lard, or melting candle wax.

So Stacey decided that after losing that much weight and enduring years of being in a flesh prison, she would do something about her hanging skin ... she had pounds of flesh surgically removed. Neither of the pictures as the top of this post are of Stacey. I couldn't find many pictures of her on the web, and none of her body. Yet the pictures*** represent something of what she went through. The first one is literally the excess hanging belly of a woman: It's 47 lbs of flesh cut from her living body. The second picture is of an a "body contouring" surgery. It's a less intense version of what Stacey went through.

Why you might ask am I writing a post about this? Well, I am a sick fuck and when my twin interests of all things fat and medical procedures are peaked, I just can't pass up the opportunity to stare and pretend that I am just another normal devoted Oprah fan (which in general, I am).

Honestly, what I like most about watching Stacey's story and her pictures is that she looked worse then me, because sometimes I think I'm the fattest woman in the world. Also, she got to live out a fantasy that I have always had, namely cutting off all of her excess flesh. I once read that having that fantasy was a sign of having either an image or an eating disorder and I have to say: Duh!

So, now that you know that I am a terrible person who hangs on every word of a fellow fat girl's pain out of a purely prurient interest, I will leave you fine readers with one of my favorite images. This is a picture of an abdominoplasty panniculectomy. The patients, "pannus was so massive she could not walk. Her skin would tear from the stress of the gigantic hanging flesh". And so she had it removed*** ...

*** Please note: We voluntarily removed the pics from our site because, well, we didn't ask permission to use them and that made us feel icky.But please keep in mind that if you google the words "pannus" "fat" "belly" "abdominoplasty", you are sure to find some awesome pics of fat panni and bellies in all of their glory...

Small Clothes, Big Fat

My wardrobe deficiency and clothing in general have been on my mind lately for a few reasons. First of all, I am going on a cruise (I'll tell you much more about that in a later post). And second of all, I have had a few too many close encounters with tiny clothing in the past few weeks:

Laura came over last week after going to the gym, she does this on occasion. She goes to the gym after work; I stop by Jim’s BBQ to get a sandwich for dinner (they have excellent sauce). Laura changed, used my shower, and showed me how many times my towel wraps around her tiny waist (while I can barely cover myself in it). Then, she made the mistake of leaving her work out T-shirt at my house. I’m (generally) a nice girl, so I put her dirty tiny shirt in the washer so when I gave it back to her, like I had planned to, it would be clean. I threw her shirt in the washer and didn't think about it again. On Friday I looked in the dryer and found a load of the rags our housekeeper uses to clean the toilets, floors and whatnot. And in the pile of rags was Laura’s shirt.

I understand why my housekeeper though that Laura's tiny shirt was a rag. After all, it’s about the size of a hanker chief. No way could anyone in my household fit into it. I know I'm a spiteful friend, but instead of telling Laura what happened, I might just give it back to her and say nothing ... just reaping the pleasure of seeing her in that shirt again, knowing that it cleaned my toilet. Fat girl revenge can be an ugly thing, but she gets to be skinny, so I take my pleasure where I can get it.

I mean Laura just doesn't get it. Take my latest trip to Old Navy. I recently ordered a lot of clothes online and in various sizes so I could try different things on. Old Navy has a plus size dept and it’s either hit or miss with them (refer to my letter to Lane Bryant who I still have not heard back from). I bought about $400 worth of clothing and was returning about $300. So, I went up to the cashier, handed him my 3X and 2X returns and he rang it all up.

I was wondering around the store looking for more clothes I could buy and return later when Laura called me. She had recently seen a pair of pants she wanted, and asked if I could buy them for her. At this point in our friendship, Laura should know that I HATE wandering into the "normal" size section of clothing stores ... especially when I am by myself because I look literally crazy. I feel like I am there just to make the women who are only 10 or 15 lbs bigger than the ideal body weight feel better about themselves. After all, it's a lot easier to be happy about being a size 14 when there is a size 24 girl wandering down the same isle. Perhaps because I felt bad about the toilet shirt I was going to give back to her, I decided to get her the pants she wanted.

I ended up in front of the same cashier who had just accepted my $300 worth of size 22 and XXXL fat girl's clothing returns. Dumbfounded is the only word to describe his face. Yes, I had just returned a large load (pun intended), of fat girl clothes and was now purchasing a size EXTRA SMALL pants.

He stared at me for a good 10 seconds. He had every reason to.

I stared right back at him, smiled, and said: “I’ve got high hopes.”

Fat Girl Loses Tampon, Finds Missing Pork Chop

This is an entirely true story (Except for the second half of the title...)

Though I love and cherish them now, I came to use tampons late in life. In fact it was last year, and I was 23, when I first inserted a tampon and left in in for more then 4 minutes. Perhaps it was because up to that point I had only has sex with women, and had just recently had a penis fully inserted into my vagina, that I had shunned the majesty and brilliance of the tampon. But more than likely, it was because I am fat, and I have always had a theory that fat girls and tampons don't mix. But, last year I came to see that I was wrong, and I have been faithfully, and without incident, been using tampax pearls for a year now. Without incident, that is, until last week...

In the middle of last week, on one of the last days of my period, I went to remove the junior size tampon and discovered that it wasn't there! I freaked out a little bit, and then decided that it must have fallen into the toilet while I was peeing ... after all it was a junior size.

About an hour later I started getting really paranoid, after all, wouldn't I have seen it in the bowl if it had fallen out? And why had it fallen out in the first place? I called the help line on the tampax box, primarily used by teenage girls and pre-teen crank callers, but found to my dismay that they were closed for the night!

I decided to go searching... I virtually stuck my entire hand up my vaginal canal, blindly poking around and feeling for my missing tampon like, well, like a fat kid searches for goodies in a dark kitchen late at night.

And let me tell you, for a fat girl to contort her body into a position so that getting her whole hand up her own vagina is possible is no small task. I laid on my bed, squatted, got in a ballet like position with my leg on the wall over my head. Those early gymnastics and yoga lessons sure paid off.

And yet, I still couldn't find my missing tampon. I was almost sure that it wasn't up there, but being "almost" sure that something isn't lodged against your cervix inside your snatch is pretty much just NOT good enough.

So I decided that someone needed to check it out for me. My amazing friend Juliana volunteered to come over with some hair dying gloves and take a peek up inside my "hole", as she called it, so I would calm down. And though I love her for volunteering, and actually meaning it, I decided to go to Planned Parenthood the next day.

My trepidations about going to Planned Parenthood involve things that skinny and normal weight people never ever have to think about when visiting a doctor: 1) Telling them how much I weigh, 2) Having to wear a tiny smock like garment that would cover 1/4 of my body and still rip 3) Having to hear that this happened because I am fat 4) Listening to the same lecture about how I am too fat and 5) Letting some skinny nurse or doctor look at my none too smooth inner thighs as they stick their fingers in my vagina.

Of course, I am an idiot and told the nurse who asked that I didn't know and didn't want to know how much I weighed, instead of just making something up so she could write it down. I was marched into the busy waiting room and weighed in front of everyone in there!! But that was the worst part of the entire visit. I picked out the fat nurse with a kind face, and decided if I didn't get her, I was going to walk out. And amazingly, she called me into her room. She was awesome and comforting and seriously made me feel so much better. I think her name was Nurse Abigail, and I would just like to say that she is my nominee for the Fat Woman of the Year award.

And do you know what Nurse Abigail told me that made me feel so so so much better and not like the biggest spaz that ever lived? She told me that she was glad I came in then, because earlier in the day another girl came in complaining of strange mucus in her vagina, and that when nurse Abigail faithfully delved into her pussy to check things out, she found a tampon that had been in their for an entire MONTH!!! Yes folks, you heard me right, and entire month. Nurse Abigail had to shut the room down for 3 hours because it smelled so badly after she had gone.

And in the end, it turned out that I really am just a paranoid Jew, and there was no menacing tampon lost in my vagina (though after hearing about the other girl's story I am sooo glad I had it checked out). And though Nurse Abigail must have thought I was insane for asking, the girl with the tampon inside her for a month was .... SKINNY!!!! So there.

Mirror mirror on the wall, who's that fattest of them all...

I love the pictures that are sometimes found in health books where a skinny girl is looking into a long oval mirror and the reflection that stares back at her is of a dumpy chunky girl who's belly is poking out of her panties. I know skinny girls who claim to see themselves like that. It's called body dysmorphic disorder, and it is common among anorexics and bulimics. Sometimes I don't know if my skinny friends really feel that way, or if they just want me to tell them they aren't fat, which honestly I find incredibly annoying because to me anything less then 215 lbs I consider "not fat".

On occasion, I find that I have inverse dysmorphia, which really is just another type of dysmorphia, just one that isn't illustrated in text books. Sometimes I feel like if I was illustrated, there would be a fat girl with her belly hanging out in front of the oval shaped mirror, and staring back at me would be a curvy yet not lumpy and much smaller girl. Now don't get me wrong, I never ever EVER think I am thin or skinny or even "normal" or "average" size, but on occasion I do think to myself, "damn, I'm not THAT fat".

But sadly, at some point later in the day, reality sets in, and a reflection from a store window or a picture that a friend snaps of me on their cell phone camera (to my great displeasure), reminds me that, yeah, I am that fat. I mean, seriously, if you wake up in the morning and you think to yourself, "fuck, I wish those size 18 jeans still fit", then no matter what the mirror tells you, you are fat.

And I really do wish those size 18 jeans still fit, cause they were really cute... (Thanks Gap Online!!!)

FATISHIZING

This is the 4th time this has happened to me, and I know that it has happened to Emily as well...AND I AM SERIOUSLY SICK OF IT!!!!!

What is this crazy fat girl so pissed about? I'll tell you: I am sick of being fatishized by some boy who strings me along for a few weeks, and then drops the bomb that he actually has a girlfriend and just wanted to fuck a fatty before he either ties the knot or gives her the ring!

FATISHIZING is a word I made up last week, but I think it's pretty self-explanatory, and I would like to introduce it to the English language. It means being fetishized for being fat. While I understand that I am probably alienating half of our readers by writing this, my disclaimer is that I am talking for myself (and possible Emily), and that some fat girls may feel differently.

I understand fetishes, most people have some, and in general there is nothing wrong with them. I am pretty open to people's sexual variations and desires. And believe me, I am all about the men (and women) who enjoy people of size. But what I don't enjoy is being boiled down to what amounts to a mound of fat and a hole. Yes, I am fat. Yes, I know that I attract a certain type of person. No, I don't like being viewed as a belly and a vagina...AND I CERTAINLY DON'T WANT TO BE YOUR EXPERIMENT BEFORE YOU MARRY A SKINNY GIRL!!!

I guess I wouldn't be so upset if I was told that the guy had a girlfriend upfront. That way, I could say, "Oh, sorry, not into men with girlfriends". But as it is, it is just depressing to be viewed as the pathetic fat girl who would fuck an attached guy before he went off and married his more socially acceptable girlfriend. I may be fat, but I'm still cute, smart, and interesting, and one day I'll be some boys first choice...not his fatxperiment.

And the sad thing is that these boys really seem to like fatties, and are condemning themselves to lives of slowly trying to plump their wives up, like 2 lbs a year, while she bemoans her slow weight gain and thinks her husband isn't attracted to her anymore.

So, sorry mom, as of today, there is no Jewish doctor in my future ... he already has a girlfriend. But he will secretly fuck me in a motel to satisfy his fat fantasy.

Fatty McWeekend

My weekend was pretty uneventful. It usually is, and that's really okay with me. Though, this weekend I had some fatty run-ins. Since you're dying to know about them, I'll tell you.

Friday: I went to see a movie with Laura (Skinny). While at the mall, I thought I would get a snack to bring into the movie so that I wouldn't be totally starved when I went home later. Problem is, I was with Laura. Normally, I'd get an order of lo mein, a coke and some egg roles and enjoy a fabulous movie going experience. But, I couldn't. Instead, I got a fat free lemon poppy seed muffin. It was not good. Actually, it was horrible. Even I couldn't eat it. It was a cross between the sole of a shoe and lemon glass cleaner. Sitting sadly back in my theatre seat, I almost wept.

Saturday: I went over to my brother and sister-in-law's house for dinner. They put me in charge of ordering the pizza. I was excited because I get to order from a pizza place that we used to get every Friday as kids. They became to know us, or me most importantly, so well that one year I got a Christmas card from them. Every Friday was the same. I'd pick up the phone, dial the number by memory and order an extra large cheese pizza which would leave just enough left to have an awesome feast of cold pizza for breakfast. Yummy. But, sadly I moved out of the delivery area and thus, a tradition was broken.

So, I called them up, still remembering the phone number like I was 12 again and ordered. And guess what happened? He remembered me! I don't know if it was my voice or my name, but he remembered me making that one of the fattest moments in my life.

When I bit into a slice, it was like coming home again.

Sunday: Nothing really special happened on Sunday, except for the fact that I had bought a chocolate chip Danish to devour. I wasn't sure when to eat it, knowing that when I did the build up of the anticipation would be gone. Such is all trysts with food. Sad.

When I got home after running some errands, I noticed my brother's car in the driveway. When I got to the kitchen I noticed that my Danish was missing. While I almost started putting up Missing signs around the neighborhood, I first asked my brother (who is 6'1 190, the basic equivalent of Arnold Schwarzenegger to my Danny Devito), if he ate my Danish. Yes, yes he did.

Was I going to cry? No. He'd call me a fat ass if I did...but I did mourn the loss of my Danish, for a couple of hours. When he finally left, I looked at the empty danish box, and cried myself to sleep.

Fatty Loves An ED

I've been waiting for this night all of my life. Since the evening of losing my virginity, I haven't waited for a night so much. Tonight is the premiere of Starved on FX. I cannot express how excited I am. I’ve been waiting for a show about eating disorders since I was a wee child. Poor, poor Lindsey. She doesn't have cable. Sucker.

For those of you who don't know, Starved is a humorous look at eating disorders. Yes, I think eating disorders are funny, too.

I'm basically the shows demographic. I'm fat and I love eating disorders. I especially love watching them on TV. I personally feel that growing up, watching eating disorders on TV shaped me into the fat ass I am today.

Listed below are my top 3 favorite eating disorders ever depicted on television:

3. Calista Flockhart as Mary-Margaret in HBO's "Life Stories: Families in Crisis". Can I point out throwing up in jars and hiding them in your closet? Can I point out eating in the back seat of a Volvo station wagon in the middle of the woods so no one catches you? Can I point out Mary-Margaret’s roommate boasting that she only ate air popped popcorn during Christmas break and got rid of it as soon as possible? Yes I can. And boy is it good.

Lesson Learned: Don't hide your vomit filled jars in your closet because your mother will find them and send you to a therapist who will refer to your binging as "episodes".

2. DJ on Full House in the episode, "Shape Up". What's better than Joey's "Cut It out" or Uncle Jesse's hair? DJ thinking she's fat and therefore going on a diet. Poor DJ. She's been asked to a pool party, my worst fear. I felt for her, I really did. She couldn't try samples of Uncle Jesse's wedding cake. She had to pretend to make herself a sandwich to prove she was fine and ended up feeding it to her dog, Comet. Her father refers to her cheeks as "Charlie Brown" cheeks. She passes out while working out hardcore style on the stair master. This girl was a wreck until Daddy Danny told her she was beautiful. Aww. My dad just tells me to pull my shirt down in the back because my fat ass is showing.

Lesson Learned: How to make ice cube popsicles. Ingredients: Water. Supplies: Ice cube tray, popsicle sticks. Take water and poor it into ice cube tray. Place popsicle sticks in. Put in freezer for 3 hours. Ta DA! Ice cube popsicles.

1. Kelly Taylor on Beverly Hills, 90210. Now, I love Kelly. I still talk about her as if she was a real person. Kelly taught me many things while growing up, but most importantly, she taught me at the young age of 13 that all I had to do to be beautiful was take diet pills. Kelly's problems stemmed from a childhood scarred by modeling and a masseuse that had recently told her that she was going to work on her "problem areas". Yes, Kelly had problem areas. I personally feel they were her thighs, but that's just my opinion. So, how does Kelly react to this realization that she has problem areas? She takes diet pills. So, what did I do? I rummaged through my mother's drawers and found myself some diet pills. 4 days and 2lbs later, I had Kelly Taylor to thank. I was beautiful.

Lesson Learned: Always eat on the day of your 18th birthday because if you don't, the combination of starvation and diet pills will make you pass out on the floor of the ladies room at the Peach Pit, and who knows if Nat actually cleans the ladies room.

I'm A Weight Watcher!

Well, not anymore...but I've joined Weight Watchers maybe 10 times in my life. Weight Watcher meetings, or the WW as I call it, are one of the funniest things to attend. Almost like a comedy club, only with a higher cover charge. I'm not saying this because it's a bunch of fat people sitting in a room. I'm saying this because of the happenings that go on while you're there. The desperateness, the denial, the recounting of a whole weeks worth of eatings, is enough to write a novel about. But, I'll give you just a small taste of what is truly brilliant about the WW.

The people watching is worth the weekly fee. I love people watching, I know Lindsey does too. But, the people watching at the WW is some of the best. And some of the things these people say are priceless. For example, a woman once started talking about how she misses her chocolate desserts but has overcome that craving by freezing berries and eating those. FREEZING BERRIES. The only craving frozen berries would overcome for me is if I was actually craving frozen berries. Frozen berries are in no way equivalent of chocolate. And what did the people do when she told them about this amazing chocolate craving discovery? Shook their heads like this was the best idea ever. What did I do? I stared at the woman like she was a dumb fuck. I would have thought it was more ingenious if she had told me to only eat half of the chocolate bar instead of the whole thing. In that case, I would have nodded in agreement and told the stranger next to me that this woman had a good point. But, frozen berries are not going to help me put the See's Candy down. Not today, not tomorrow.

I've always had this fantasy about going to a meeting and bringing in food with me. I got this idea after a woman sat down and started to eat an apple. You should have the faces of the other group members. This woman somehow made this apple look as if it were a cheeseburger or prime rib. I've never seen anything like it. It was a damn apple. It was then that I wanted to bring something in that wasn't as healthy and nearly as fat free. I want to bring Fettucini Alfredo with me to the next meeting I choose to attend. I'd like to sit in the middle of the group and very casually take a huge bowl of fettucini alfredo, sprinkle some parmesan cheese on it and start munching down. The closest I've come to committing to this was bringing a Coke to the meeting, non-diet. I got one stare...maybe because it was a regular Coke, but maybe because it was 10 in the morning. I'm not really sure.

I hate the weigh in. Nothing is worse then having a skinny girl weigh me in. It's really not like they've ever been fat. Losing 20lbs at the WW and then getting a job there really doesn't impress me. Give me a woman who used to weigh 300lbs and now weighs 150 and I'd be perfectly comfortable. She knows. She's been there too. We can relate. But, Ms. "I lost the 23 lbs I put on with my pregnancy" really doesn't do it for me. Either do the skinny girls that go to Weight Watchers. I've told Lindsey before and I'll tell you. I feel the WW should break their groups into weight classes. That way, I don't have to see Michelle, the girl who weighs 135 try to lose that 3lbs she put on after Spring Break in Cancun. Can I get an AMEN?

If I ever actually decide to lose the weight and put my heart and soul into it, I know I'll be joining the WW again. I like their approach. I don't like how when you see a picture of someone who lost 200lbs on Weight Watchers they remind you that "results are not typical". I don't really need to hear that considering I'm living proof that results are not typical. But, if they want to give me a years free membership and a lifetime supply of their Fruities (their 1 pack = 1 pt fruit chews that will pull out your fillings), then I will try to make the results as typical as me craving chocolate instead of frozen berries.

An Open Letter To Ms. Lane Bryant

Dear Ms. Byrant,

First, I think you're great. You've given me the opportunity to buy fabulous, sexy bras and panties that actually fit. For that, I thank you. But, that's not why I'm writing to you today. What I want to tell you, or more explain to you, is that not all fat girls are 5'2", and ten feet wide. I don't know who is designing your clothes, but I have some suggestions that I think you should take into consideration.

1. Colors. Lindsey recently went into a Lane Bryant to find some new "tops". But, what she didn't expect to find was that the store was devoid of black clothes. Such colors as Banana, Melon, Hot Pink, Aqua Marine and so on were widely available. Lindsey went up to the nice saleswoman and asked if they had a certain top in black and the woman replied, "Oh no, we like to keep our big girls bright and beautiful." This is understandable. I understand that some women want to stand out amongst the crowd, but Lindsey and I don't.

If possible, we would choose to wear camouflage, blending in with the scenery and making it through our day without really being seen, only a pretty floating head making its way down the street.

2. Patterns. Unless it's to camouflage like I mentioned above, patterns are not a good way to go. Flowers especially. I'm 25 years old. I don't need to wear things with flowers on them. I'll reserve that for the 6 year olds I see. I've many-a-time seen a shirt I would actually wear, but am not allowed to buy it because the pocket has a embroidered flower on it. Save your time Ms. Bryant, because I'm not buying it.

3. Sizing. I'm fat. But, I'm not deformed. I have a normal body shape, it's just larger. What I don't understand about fat girl clothing is the sizing. The pants are always tapered, creating an unflattering, ice cream cone shape. I love ice cream cones, especially the ones that are dipped in chocolate, but I don't want to look like one. The shirts are always 3/4 length sleeves, too wide and never long enough. When your shirt isn't long enough it leads to a visible front butt, and no one wants to see that. Lengthen and Take-In. I cannot emphasize that more. I'm speaking for fat girls worldwide, and what should not be too wide are the shirts. Take them in.

Otherwise, keep up the good work in keeping us fatties clothed.

Your Customer,

Emily

PS. Why do you refer to shirts as "tops" and pants as "bottoms"?

Giddy Up, Fatty

Lindsey and I LOVE Craigslist. It's a very useful site. Want to find an apartment? Use craigslist. Want tickets to a concert you love? Use craigslist. But, what Linds and I love to do on craigslist is troll for boys. Half serious, half jokingly, we put up random posts about who we would like to meet. Basically sending it out there for all to read, and maybe, just maybe getting something worthy back...this is rare. What we usually get is what is below. This is verbatim and we are nice enough to secure the anonymity of the writer.


"Hi! I saw your ad on Craigs List. I'm a 150 pound Jewish guy, not too young and not too old. I find fat girls to be attractive. I should tell you that I have ponyplay fantasies, and I would love to jump on your back and have you piggyback me around a bit. I know it's weird, but what the heck. Hey, otherwise I'm normal. Anyhow, I'm also looking for friendship and perhaps a relationship with the right girl who's willing to be my pony. Whatever you think, write back and let me know! (Put Craigs List in the subject line).

Yours, XXXX"

Whatever I think? Um, I think that:

1. That's hilarious!
2. I do have a pony tail
3. Is this guy out of his mind?

I don't want to be rude, we all have our fetishes, (mine happens to be Jewish Male Doctors), but giving a guy a piggyback ride might be the worst request I have ever heard from a man. Not because of the sexual implications, but because I don't want to be able to give my man a piggyback ride.

Ever.