Fatty McFat Face

Let's get real.  There are tons of overweight and morbidly obese people in this country.  It's true. It happens.  Fortunately, I am not one of them, but it's not for lack of trying.  Trust me.  On the outside, I may be just another skinny white girl walking down the street, but on the inside I'm a sweaty 700 pound man.* In other words, I am an eating machine.  Most of the time anyway.

Generally, I try to make healthy choices** when I eat - you know organic, balanced meals and flowers and sunshine - but things don't always work out.  When I'm on, I'm on.  But when I fall off the horse, it all goes to hell in a hand basket.  At best, you could describe my eating habits as erratic.  Much to Biance's*** chagrin, I generally skip breakfast, eat some Peanut M&Ms, maybe get lunch (that's a big maybe - more like never), and then go home.  Since this is what many people see, I understand how they might be fooled by the slim facade.  But if you ever stick around for dinner, you'll see the fat man come out.  BIG TIME.

I need to stop eating dinners made for families of four.  Seriously.  Last night I annihilated a box of beef stroganoff large enough to feed an entire household.  The night before it was a massive steak and a box of mac n' cheese.  Maybe it's because I'm so hungry from the day, but I can put food away like there's no tomorrow.  Iz does it too and she's tiny.  Honestly, the way we eat attracts attention - in bars, in restaurants, people comment on how much we eat.  Or they stare - the men mostly admiringly, the women more with disgust.  It's starting to get absurd.  Maybe I should go to food rehab.  But at the same time, I feel no need to stop eating like a monster.  And thanks to a ridiculous set of genes, I don't really need to worry about it.  It's not even fair.  I'd feel bad, but I don't.

At least I'm generous about it though.  I think.  I try to take others down with me.  I'll name no names, but I've been known to sneak attack kidnap my lovelies into coming on food runs with me.  Or I bring food home to them. Sneakily. Food and sugar.  Mmmmm sugar.  Much like my sweaty, gelatinous inner fat man, I am probably destined for some serious diabetes.  Especially the way I consume sugar.  Like an addict.  But I'm OK with it.  For now at least.  Once my metabolism slows down though, I'm screwed.  And then I really will be 700 pounds.  Fat and happy.  Yesssss.

Whoo! It's almost lunch! :)

*This is, of course, in addition to harboring a winged, fire breathing monster on the inside as well.
**Contrary to what the Kit-Kat police would have you think.  You know who you are. cough cough Biance cough cough.
***In case you didn't get it before, Biance is Blondie's fiance.  Who happens to be a naturopath freak.  I say that with love. :)