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Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

08 February 2012

Fat Girl Problems





I'm having a Fat Day, y'all.  

If you've never had a Fat Day and don't know what I'm talking about, then I would kindly and politely like to invite you to please kiss the absolute fattest part of my ass.

A Fat Day is a day like any  other day, except that on THIS particular day, nothing fits.  You seemingly have swollen up to 5 times your normal size overnight, while you slept.  Your face is fat, your neck is fat, your back is fat, your ass is fat, even your feet are fat.  And it isn't about the dreaded water retention (as I am currently retaining about 40 lbs of water, I speak from experience), it's just that you happened to wake up FAT.

It's a phenomenon that female scientists have been studying for years.

I woke up this morning feeling... fat.

It's like, there suddenly wasn't enough room for both Maisy and me in the bed.  She kept looking at me like, "Move over, fatass!" and I was all, "Dude... if I move over anymore, I'll fall off the bed!  And I'm so fat this morning that I'd leave a large Dani-shaped hole in the floor and plummet into Mr. Awesome's apartment!  And since I'm pretty sure his bedroom is right below ours, I'd most likely land on HIM and kill him, because I'm so fucking FAT, and then I'd wind up in prison for involuntary man slaughter.  Prison mean unflattering orange jumpsuits and peeing in a toilet in the middle of a room with 20 other people hanging around watching you.  And for that reason, and that reason alone, I refuse to move over any further!"

At that point, we reached an impasse.  Her big round puggy eyes were mournfully accusatory, until I finally rolled myself off the bed and into the kitchen to make coffee.

And then it occurred to me...

I LOOK LIKE THE STAY PUFT MARSHMALLOW MAN.

Reason #46373475 Why I Will Never Own A Sailor Suit:




While my coffee was brewing I decided to take my shower, hoping that the steam from the hot water would melt some of my fat off.  

I'm telling you, I barely fit in the shower.  I kept knocking shit off the shelves and dropping my razor and saying "OOOF!" every time I bent to pick it up.  

I became out of breath toweling off.

I hauled out my Fat Clothes and prepared myself to spend the day feeling fat.

And then, this happened:

My yoga pants fit more like leggings than yoga pants.

I'm too fat for yoga pants.

What comes after yoga pants?  A freaking muumuu??  

What's the clothing progression for refatting?

I did some research.

Apparently, according to Fat Girl Monthly, it goes like this:

1.  Jeans.





2.  Yoga pants.




3.  Big girl jeans.





4.  Pants with an elastic waist.





5.  Stretch pants.






6.  Sweat pants.






7.  Muumuu.


What does it say about me that her socks bother me more than her over-hang?



8.  Paramedics breaking down the wall in your bedroom and lifting you out with a crane.  (Or, if you're the fat guy in Mexico, they put you on the back of a truck and throw you a parade.  I think I'm moving to Mexico.)






I'm fluctuating between Level 2 and Level 3 Fatness.

I wept openly for the the skinny jeans hanging in my closet.  

I wept harder for the fat free half and half that I poured into my coffee.

I sobbed at the box of donuts that Dan bought, sitting on the counter unopened and uneaten.

I raged at the egg white omelette that tasted like shit and was lacking in essentials, like cheese and bacon.

I kicked the scale that was openly mocking me where I put it to remind me that I'm fat, at the entrance to the kitchen.

I hurt my toe when I kicked it.

I hopped up and down holding my fat foot and swearing loudly.

I spent 10 minutes hating every one and every thing in this world that is thinner than I...

And then I remembered...

PEOPLE OF WALMART!!!





And once again, everything is right with my world.