Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

Because sometimes a status update just isn't enough.

16 May 2012

Fatty Wants Ice Cream


I am having the Worst.  Fat day.  EVER.

It's no secret (even though I really, reallyyyy wish it was) that I've porked out  considerably since moving to New York.  My clothes don't fit, my skin doesn't fit, I don't fit... it sucks beyond all possible comprehension of suckiness to say "I have nothing to wear" and actually have it be true.

 I am currently sporting the Muffin Top From Hell that even my Spanx can't control because I actually have someplace I need to be this afternoon and showing up in capri leggings and a too-small t-shirt would land me smack dab in an episode of Weekly Whacked, thank you very much Misty's Laws.  (I now fear people with camera phones.  Because ya nevah know.)

So I'm wearing a pair of real pants (because leggings just simply are not pants) that fit me last summer, but this summer?

Not so much.

I actually had to lie down on the bed, suck in my stomach, hold my breath, and yank up the zipper before I passed out from lack of oxygen.

I broke a nail, because the zipper was determined to not put itself through that trauma.

I then had to roll off the bed and onto the floor, because there was literally no way in HELL I could sit myself upright without causing severe damage to my internal organs.

It.  Was.  Tragic.

This opened up a whole new can of difficulty, because then I had to hunt down a shirt that would serve three purposes:

1.  Disguise the muffin top.

2.  Not be in the sweatshirt family, because it's a thousand degrees right now.

And most importantly:

3.  Be long enough to hide the evidence if my zipper explodes.

That's a talllll order for a single shirt.

(Don't even get me started on the job my bra has been needing to perform lately.)

The thing with Fat Days is that they leave me exhausted.  I have to spend an entire day dragging my fatness from Point A to Point B, wearing Fat Clothes, fixing my Fat Hair, putting make-up on my Fat Face, and wanting to insert the word "Fat" into every sentence.

Inside my head, my Fat Song is playing...

Hello Fatness, my old friend...
I've come to feed you yet again...

(My apologies to Simon and Garfunkel, neither of whom were fat, the bastards.)

All of my conversations go like this:

Friend, calling me on the phone:  "Hi!  How are you?"

Me:  "Fat."

Dan will call with a request, such as "Can you please run to the store and pick me up some deoderant?" and I'll respond with, "I can't."  Dan will then ask, "Why not?" and I have to say, "Because I'm Fat."

Then we have this conversation:

Dan:  "So why don't you get some exercise?  It'll make you feel better."

Me:  "Why?  Are you saying I'm FAT?"

(The sad thing is, this is a totally true story.)

The bottom line is that I'm currently sitting on the couch without my pants on, waiting until the second that I absolutely have to leave the house to put them on so that I don't die from organ failure.  (I have no idea what organs can fail because your pants are too tight, due to Extreme Fatness, but I'm sure there must be at least one.  Like, perhaps my uterus will spontaneously combust or my bladder will cease to function.  You never know.  I can't be Fat AND uterus-less AND bladder-less, because that would suck.)

Fatty Brain reasons like this:

I'm FAT, so I need to stop at Dairy Queen after my job interview and reward myself with a Confetti Cake Blizzard for squeezing into my too-tight pants and zipper-exploding-covering shirt, because it was hard and it made me cry.  And then I need to come home, put on my sweat pants, and eat it.

And order pizza for dinner.

(You have no idea how much I wish this last part wasn't true.)


  1. I feel you Ms. Dani! I'm super fatalicious right now. :/ Thank you for reminding me how awesome blizzards are, especially on fat days...or everyday for that matter.

  2. I SEEEEE YOUUUUU, DANNIIIIIIII (read in The Shining's Jack voice). Click Click. :)

    Um, and this is just a suggestion, but I'm thinking, maybe, just maybe . . . you should go buy some new pants? Here's the plan, go to Walmart, get some $9 pants and maybe even throw in a $4 shirt for the hell of it, and also check out the people who shop there (and take some pics and send them to me). This will fulfill two goals: 1. You will fit into something, but won't feel bad about spending money on "fat clothes" (been there, know of the horror of conceding and buying them), and 2. You will see people there that will make you feel skinny, beautiful and classy & put together in comparison. See? It's a win/win. Get thee to Wally World, stat!!

  3. I have worn "real" pants perhaps 10 times in the last 3 years. I live in black Danskin bootcut yoga pants. I know I am not fooling anyone. I wish I could convince myself that I was.

  4. How did the job interview go?? Did you dazzle 'em?

  5. Have I told you lately that I love you?

    And that you make me laugh?

    (But not AT you, most absolutely NOT.)

  6. You're incredible!! You always make me giggle!!


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