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.

Break A Leg

I have lived every fat girls worst nightmare...I broke a bench. Yes, a bench.

This happened about 3 years ago. I wouldn't say it was entirely my fat ass that brought the bench down, but let's just assume that if I wasn't on it, it wouldn't have crumbled to the ground the way it did.

New Years Eve, 2002/2003

I went to a party with two of my friends, Mary and Laura, (Lindsey was out of town). Mary has some girth and knows how to pack away the food. I like Mary. She's crazy, but we eat and watch TV very well together, and what more in a friendship can you ask for? Laura is SKINNY. I'm talking 5 feet 11 inches, 125lbs skinny. She is deathly afraid of becoming fat. She makes me sick. I don't know why we are friends. She actually says things to me like:

"I feel fat"
"I ate so much, you have no idea"
"I'm fat aren't I?"

Does she know who she is talking to???

I didn't know the girl who was throwing the party. I was a friend of a friend who brought two friends. As soon as we walk in I see the friend I know and we exchange greetings and what not. Then Mary sees the host.

Mary: I know her
Me: Really?
Mary: Yeah, we went to high school together. She's was a total bulimic. I hear she still is.
Me: Nice

Now, let me just say, I'm a fat girl, Lindsey is a fat girl, and if I know anything about my fat girls it's this: WE LOVE A GOOD EATING DISORDER. I mean, we technically have eating disorders. No, none of it is healthy, but it sure is interesting.

Laura and I made our way outside to drink and smoke a little while Mary runs to her car. We're all sitting at one of those picnic tables, (one long table with two benches on each side). Who comes and sits down? The host. I don't remember her name, so we'll call her Jen. Jen came over with a bowl of guacamole and some chips, places it in the middle of the table, sits and starts chowing down.

Jen lets us know that her mother made the guacamole and it's the best...we've all gotta try it. Laura sinks her chip into it and agrees, this is the best guacamole she has ever had. Do I try the guacamole? Of course not. No respecting fatty eats in front of:

1. Skinny Laura
2. A fucking Bulimic

I give some bullshit excuse about how since I was drinking, I wouldn't be eating anything that would be green when it came up and into the toilet. (Did I just say that in front of a bulimic? Damn right I did).

So, we're sitting there. They're eating, I'm wondering what it would be like to not be fat and be able to eat in public. Then it happened. Mary came and sat down next to me. HARD. Crashing down next to me is more like it. Grace is not one of Mary's charms.

BANG!

The leg of the bench breaks, sending us to the floor and all I can think of at that moment is, "I can't believe this just happened in front of Skinny Ass Laura and this bulimic girl I just met." I can't even imagine what they were thinking, but I know what they did. Immediately after I crashed to the floor Laura and Jen, in sync, put their guacamole filled chips down. Laura has a stunned look on her face and you know she's thinking, "If I eat anymore chips, that will happen to me".

Jen reassures us that the bench was a million years old, not to worry about it and heads to the bathroom to throw up. I know this because when she leaves, the bathroom light goes on and 4 minutes later the toilet flushes and she comes out with bloodshot eyes and the room reeks of vomit.

Not only did I break her family's bench, I more than likely sent her into such a bulimic bender that her esophagus probably deteriorated that very night.

That night I made the only new years resolution that I have ever kept:

Never sit on the same bench as Mary.

And I haven't since.

Big Fat in Little Chinatown

I moved to Manhattan's Chinatown about three weeks ago, and I have been noticing that I have been getting stared at pretty intensely. Now, my friends are always quick to point out that I always think everyone is staring at me because I'm paranoid (and fat), and while that is true, I have to say that what has been happening in Chinatown is far too intense to be just my imagination.

Of course I think I'm being stared at because I'm a big white fatty, and they are all these tiny little petite (even the men) Chinese people, and they all look at me and wonder how I got this fat and how I manage to sit in the Lotus position (which is my preferred sitting style). Of course they may be staring at me and shooting me hateful looks because I commonly sit in front of one of their funeral parlors and chain smoke cigarettes. Who knows?

But the pinnacle of how much the Chinese people in my neighborhood hate me an my fatness happened this morning as I was leaving for work. I wore these random shoes today which I am not used to walking in, so as I walked out of my apartment door I tripped a little, like an inch, and landed on my feet. As that was happening, a little old Chinese woman was walking by, and looked up just as I was tripping, and she thought I was going o fall on her and apparently squish here to death. She jumped and yelled and held her heart in fear, and then when she realized she wasn't going to meet her maker due to my fat ass squishing her, she went an leaned against a wall, and actually told me, "You are soooo big. I thought you kill me if you fall".

How sad is my life ... My neighbors stare me down because they think I may fall and kill them. I guess they're just trying to make sure they make it by me alive.

Fat Man, Little Car

On my way to work this morning I saw a fat man in a tiny car. It was a convertible. He's living the life. Then a question popped into my head..."What would that fat mans last meal be if he was on death row in prison?" Then I started to think, "What if that man got into a car accident and died...what was his last meal?" Then I really started to think.

You know that saying, "Live each day as if it were your last"? Well, it has come to my attention that fat people eat each meal as if it were their last. I mean, I'd be pretty pissed if I died and my last meal consisted of tuna salad...although tuna salad can be really good with the right amount of mayo. Anyway, if I died today, right now actually, my last meal would consist of half of a Coca-Cola C2 and 2 Hershey Kisses...pretty pathetic. I'm sort of in a panic. It makes me want to go out and gorge myself on double fried french fries dipped in ranch and buffalo wings...which I've never had, but I think they would quickly become one of my favorite foods if I did try them.

I wonder what Lindsey's last meal would be. Let me take a quick guess...sushi (which I believe is just a vehicle for her to pour spicy mayo on something), these bbq sticky buns she keeps talking about, and maybe a sandwich...I really don't know...but I'd put my money sushi.

I really don't know what my last meal would be. I think I'd go with something really simple. Something like a cheeseburger and fries. Maybe lobster and butter. Maybe both. I know I'd have a Coke, no glass, but straight out of the fridge. I really like my Coke on the verge on freezing. Maybe if I switched to the type of coke that went up my nose, I wouldn't talk about food so much...and I definitely wouldn't have a weight problem. Now that's something to think about.

Tank Tops

Sadly, all I wanted for this summer was to be able to don a tank top and walk around. Yeah, that's it ... wearing a tank top in public was my summer goal and I failed miserably. New York summers are brutal and the humidity is a killer, especially for someone schlepping around an extra 150 extra lbs everyday!

I envy all the brave fat girls who dare to wear tank tops. There are the few chunksters who apparently don't notice or don't care that their arms look like a christmas hams sticking out of their shoulders.

The thing is that I notice when fat girls wear tank tops, and while I applaud them, I also know that I stare and inspect their fat, droopy, ugly, puckered, and stretch marked arms. So that means that if I wore a short sleeve shirt, people would look at my nasty arms, and I just couldn't take it.

The stoop in front of my office is an amazing place to people watch. As I sit in the heat, smoking a cigarette and sweating into my long sleeve shirt, I watch the little people walk by in their tank tops and the occasional fat girl in theirs, and I have come to a conclusion ... If I was a fat black girl I would be able to wear them as well.

Now, stay with me.... my thesis is basically this, "Fat black girls can wear tank tops without me wincing at their arms". Why is that? If anyone has a reason why this is so, or an opinion on the matter, I would love to hear it.

But in the meantime, all I have to say is that my summer wish is no longer the sad and apparently unachievable goal of wearing a tank top ... now all I want it to be black.

I'M PREGGERS!!!!!!

Okay, not really. But, my sister-in-law is.

My sister-in-law is great. I couldn't have asked for a better person to join our dysfunctional little family. But, if there was one thing I would change about my sister-in-law, it would have to be the fact that she is a size 0. That's right, a size 0. It's like she doesn't exist. I like to joke, (in my head and to Lindsey of course) that we're just alike, if you only put a 2 in front of the 0...that's a size 20 for all you math wizards. I'm am basically 20 times bigger than she is. It's like someone left the air pump connected to me for a little too long.

When I found out that my brother and his wife were having a child, I couldn't wait to do what I love doing...shop for others. I like to shop for others because shopping for myself is way too depressing. We like to call it Try-on Room Trauma...but that's a post I'll save for a later date. My first shopping trip for my new niece or nephew was at Target. I didn't think much of it...I just waddled on down to the maternity section and started looking at things that I could buy. While staring at something called a maternity pillow, a nice woman, who must have been around 8 months pregnant told me that it would save me from many of uncomfortable nights. My reaction went something like this:

"Huh?"

Then it clicked...This woman thought I was pregnant! So I did what any respectable fatty would do. I started to rub my belly and nod my head in an agreeing manner. Then I did what only a psychotic fatty would do, I started to talk to her about being pregnant. Yes, my back hurt (It does anyway). Yes, I had gained 65lbs so far and was only 7 months pregnant. Yes, I was so swollen I couldn't wear my wedding ring. (In this fantasy, I was married to a lovely Jewish doctor who my mother LOVED and we had just moved into a brand new home). When I noticed I was was rambling on and even freaking myself out, I grabbed the pillow she suggested and made my way to the check out.

Did I scare even myself? YES. Will this make me drop the In-n-Out Double Double Animal Style with Animal Style Fries that I crave sometimes on my way home from work? Yeah, probably not. Have you tried Animal Style Fries? Damn, they're good.

Skinny Friends...

Yeah, we all have at least one and they are annoying as hell, aren't they? But in reality, there are two types of skinny friends, the ones who get it and the ones who don't. The ones who get it are the ones who aknowledge that i'm FAT AS FUCK and I couldn't fit an ankle let alone a hip into any of their size 2 pants. I appreciate these friends.

The one's who dont get it do and say things like this:

- "That cracker made me soooo full"!

- "Why am I so fat"?

- "Can we stop into the Petite Casual store for a second ... you can look at the purses and shoes".

- "Do you really need lunch today"?

- "Well, you could have a boyfriend if you would just..."

- "It's only your body that makes you look so fat".

- "Being a size 4 is the new size 6...why am I so last year? It's not fair"!

You get the idea. Skinny friends are hard to avoid, and yet I'm about ready to give them up cold turkey! I can't handle it anymore. If I have to walk into another Juniors clothing store where the salespeople look at me like I'm going to eat their display, I may actually actually attempt it!

What the Fat Do...

This is what happens when you cannot get the food you want, when you want it.

June 22, 2005

Frito-Lay
P.O. Box 660634
Dallas, TX 75266-0634


Re: Your Amazing Flaming Hot Cheetos

To Whom It May Concern:

It is a mystery why your amazing Flaming Hot Cheetos are not sold in New York City. I am writing on behalf of my best friend in the whole world, Lindsey. She is an amazing girl. She's extremely intelligent, thoughtful and gracious.

My name is Emily. I am Lindsey's best friend. I live in Los Angeles, California where I was born and raised. I have known Lindsey for over 10 years. Because we are so close, I send her care packages. And, what you ask is in these care packages? FLAMING HOT CHEETOS. It has come to our attention that you do not sell Flaming Hot Cheetos in New York City. Why?

During Lindsey's time in New York City, many of her friends from college, all from California mind you, have moved to New York City to continue their education, and all of them are going through horrible withdrawal from your amazing product.

My letter is to propose that you either start selling Flaming Hot Cheetos in New York City, send them your own care package of Flaming Hot Cheetos, (I'm a student too, and sadly, I can't afford to keep sending these care packages), or come up with a better way to get them your wonderful treats. If they are, in fact, sold in New York City, could you please advise us where to purchase them? We have been searching high and low and have come up Flaming Hot Cheeto-less. Let's work together in spreading the love that is Flaming Hot Cheetos.

Thank you for your time,

Emily on befalf of Lindsey



The Outcome:

About two weeks later I got a letter in the Mail from Frito-Lay's Customer Service Center applogizing for my hardship. Enclosed was many coupons for all of the wonderful Frito-Lay products AND by using a program called "Snack-finder", they forwarded me a list of stores in NYC that carried Flammin' Hot Cheetos.

I cannot say enough wonderful things about the Frito-Lay Company. Not only were they helpful in my quest for their wonderful snack, but they felt my pain of being poor and encluded coupons! Does it get better than that? I don't think so.

Panni, front butts, and a mannus

The image*** above shows a great depiction of a pannus. I have a pannus. Lindsey has a pannus. some pannuses are small, some are big. I would say mine is above average. It's the only thing I have ever excelled in. I may not be in the 90th percentile of my class, but I'm in the 90th percentile of my pannus...and that's all that counts.

My co-worker, we'll call him Bill, has a pannus. Actually, Bill is so big I think we should call his a Mannus. Bill, I think, is getting up to almost 400lbs. I'm proud to call him a co-worker. Bill likes to show his Mannus off. He does this by wearing shirts that are too short. He doesn't seem to care about his Mannus.

I do care. I'll go as far and as fat to cover my pannus up with sweatshirts tied around my waist and long t shirts. I wear men's t shirts. They cover my pannus. They do not cover Bill's Mannus. Such is life.

Fat girl stores such as Lane Bryant (Dear Ms. Bryant, I love your bras...thanks for your support, love, Em) Torrid, and the plus size online section of Gap and Old Navy don't get it. They don't understand that women who are large have pannuses and like to keep them covered up. They think we like halter tops. They think we love showing off our "front butt". I am here to tell you, NO MORE FRONT BUTT!

My uncle has a very interesting pannus. I call it his butt stomach (not to be confused with front butt). His butt stomach is a mix between a pannus and an ass. Imagine this...a normal pannus with a strange crease running from his belly button all the way down his pannus and eventually under it, into no man's pannus land.

No Man's Pannus Land

No Man's Pannus Land is the place under a pannus. Don't know what I'm talking about? You're lucky. I'll tell you a little diddy about my NMPL. I had a rash under it once. I think it's because it got moist under there after either a shower or sweating in the heat. It's definitely not from me working out. Anyway, I noticed a burning...under my pannus. I went to the bathroom to see what it was and low and behold, a pannus rash. I had heard of them, but always thought it would never happen to me. Long boring story short, I make sure to dry my NMPL very well...as well as my boobs, which are like mini panni. It's been a year and I'm Pannus Rash free.

Praise the Lord. Hallelujah! Coke before Pepsi.

*** 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...

WELCOME!




This is an exciting day for us. Finally, after 3 months of talking about this, Lindsey got me (Emily) out of my bed to travel all the way across the room to retrieve my laptop so we could finally start this blog. Maybe I'm on a sugar high from the Brookie I had, (That's half Brownie, half Cookie for you non fat people), but I am ready to go.

We are writing this blog to fill a void in the fat blogging community. We didn't exactly do a lot of research to check if there was a large (no pun intended) fat blogging community, but we're lazy like that.

This is not an inspirational blog about how, as best friends, we're going to shed the weight together through a healthy lifestyle and hard work...because that's just not who we are. What we will be doing is commenting on our day to day fat life. I won't tell you how bad traffic was, but I will tell you how hard it is to wipe when my expanding ass gets in the way.