Tags
fat, OA, samantha fox, snickers, sorry not sorry, weight loss, weird al, Xena
That is the only time I’m going to say it because I’m done with beating myself up over it. The real issue now is, what magic formula can I come up with to permanently beat this thing so that I can be hot while I’m still relatively young? I know, I know, I’m supposed to do this for my health. Yeah, okay. I still want to be hot.
That, and ONLY that, is the secret dream of the fat person. I don’t care who says what about “quality of life” and “health” and “being able to climb the stairs without sweating” or “fitting in a bus/airplane seat”…but I digress. Is it so much to ask to look like Samantha Fox for a brief moment before I turn into the Crypt Keeper? (yes, these are both 80’s references, so I’m guessing that the quick answer is no) (AND, this is more “Crypt Keeper meets Weekend at Bernie’s”)
But wait, before I digress again, let it be said here and now that this is not going to be some kind of spiritual weight-loss journey-type blog about my road to redemption or any such nonsense. I just felt like writing about this today so here goes.
as she will be forever known in this blogdom, lost about one hundred pounds, give or take, many years ago. She is tall and fabulous and I’ve always been jealous…BUT…that aside, she started out her successful journey by going to O.A. (that’s Overeaters Anonymous for you skinny people). I am just not that guy. The very thought of going to a public place with strangers has often been intimidating, but having to sit and share my stories of food addiction is more than I care to share. I eat in secret. Hell, I eat in public, too, but the REALLLLY good stuff I eat alone. OR with my husband. Maybe when I’m out. Look, I love food. And really, besides those annies or bullies, who doesn’t love food? Again, digression. I have absolutely no desire to sit in a room – anonymously – with a bunch of fatty strangers who want to do nothing but talk about their inability to put down the ice cream while crying.
And yes, they are either crying at the meeting, or crying in the ice cream – either way, I’m not down for this. Also, you have to get a “sponsor” and spend every day communicating with them about what you intend to eat and what you actually end up eating. In my world I find that these two concepts are usually very far away from each other. Want a salad – have a milkshake.
Let’s get down to the meat – oh, God, meat! – of this issue – I don’t know how to apologize. “But Jade”, you are saying to me, “that’s the easy part!”. Is it really, my friends? I have trouble apologizing for things that are TRULY my fault, like being a bitch for no reason, being wrong in an argument, or yelling at someone who doesn’t deserve it.
The last thing I want to do, in my “twelve steps that will never make you thin” journey is to confront anyone I may have “harmed” with my fatness and apologize to them. What would I say? Don’t try to pretend that you are unaware of this pathetically lame step of the “BIG TWELVE” because you’re neither a child nor are you that socially defective. If you managed to find this blog, you know the basis for twelve-step programs. So barring the notion that I may not be able to pull of this weight-loss thing, I would like to take a few minutes to apologize to anyone I may have affected with my porcine ways.
1. Really sorry about stretching out your sweater. I’m sure those breast-marks will snap right back in the wash.
2. Aw, man…about that Snickers bar you were saving….
3. I really thought the weight limit on the bouncy house was an estimate. Frankly, I didn’t envision your kid sailing quite that high. Sorry.
4. You had to see me in a bathing suit. In my defense, it was a public pool and about a thousand degrees. I’m sorry, but please get over it. I’m sure the Facebook “likes” you got was worth your discomfort.
5. I’m sorry that you always roll toward me in bed. However, it does make us closer.
6. Sorry about hogging the armrest.
7. Duuuuuude, was that your burrito? (apology from way back in my stoner days)
8. I’m sorry you were sunbathing right where I decided to cannonball.
9. Sorry for being super “easy” so that your potential date came home with me. It’s a fat girl’s curse. We put out, what can I say? Everybody knows that.
10. Sorry for punching you in the face when you started a sentence with “you have such a pretty face…”. (oh, wait – that’s just a fantasy)
I may revisit this topic from time to time, as I see fit, or as I get fit, or, screw it, as I become even more UNfit. I haven’t decided. Mind your business. I just wanted to let it all hang out, as it were. After all, fat-bottomed girls make the rockin’ world go ’round. Thank you, Freddy Mercury. I would have been your fag-hag.
Wakka-wakka
~jtw