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"?