Having A Fat Day Or Was It?


Thanks Dr. Phil….like I already didn’t know I was a fat girl

Today I woke up having a fat day.  Gross.  Every girl knows exactly what a fat day  entails and if you have never had one, you are probably a cyborg.  Fat days are horrid for several reasons.  The first being you cannot find anything to wear.  It is the day you save those fat jeans for so I got up and pulled them out of the closet and slipped them on and then…horror of horrors, they don’t fit.  WTF?  Isn’t this what I save your ass for?  For those days when a pair of jeans 2 sizes too big feels just right?  But now, you have gone and disappointed me and feel like pleather pants back in the 80’s (not that I would have ANY idea about those and my Bestie BETTER be burning some pictures right now.  Just saying).  Ugh.  Maybe if I lie down on the bed and try to zip them up and suck it all in….ready? GO!  Nope.  Ok…try again!  I did it!  Now if I can only get off the bed.  Well breathing is overrated anyways, right?  I personally love the indentation the button and waistband on my jeans gives me into the stoob.  So attractive.  Oh this is pointless because what am I gonna do when I have to go to the bathroom in a public place?  Not like I can lay down on the floor of a public potty and zip up my jeans.  Ew.  The thought of laying on a public bathroom floor has a high gag factor.  I don’t even flush those pottys with my hand.  Nope.   That is what my foot is for and I have perfected the Hovercraft manuever.  Can you just see me in Target, laying down on the floor of the bathroom, my head poking into the next stall where some poor woman is trying to poop….”Excuse me for one minute, I just have to zip up my jeans.”  Pretty sure I might get arrested and how the hell would I explain that to my poor BFF or Bubby that would have to come bail me out of jail?  I mean, that is not even a good story to get arrested for.  Least of all, I would probably be banned from Target for life and THAT would be the real crime.  Now if I were in Wal-Mart, they wouldn’t care.  It would be like second nature there.

I mean if you can dress like this in public, you won’t mind me laying on the floor to zip up my pants

I refuse to be those girls who wear sweats in public either.  Except for the other day where I so fashionably went to McDonald’s in my sweats, slippers, and shirt without a bra.  I mean I was dressed up for Wal-Mart for goodness sake.  But, on most days, you will not find me in sweats in public.  Nope those are for home for me.  I suppose I could put on Spanx under my jeans and then my fat day jeans would fit better but the thought of squeezing all my fat into Spanx is also not appealing.  They are the best creation in the world but to get them on and off is quite a chore for a fat girl.  It involves some gymnastics, sweating, grunting, jumping and squatting and then if you have to go potty you do it all over again to make sure the fat is contained and controlled.  I never understood why the girls on the cover look so happy…oh yeah.  They must not be fat girls.

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Power to the Panty! They obviously did not spend 15 minutes making various animal sounds to get them on and contain the fat rolls.

I was also not going to be seen in public in my exercise pants either unless I was working out because nobody needs to see THAT much spandex on a fat girl.  It is bad enough I have to torture people with it when I work out.  On a side note, make sure when you do wear those spandex pants that your underwear does not have a print on them.  Nothing like bending over to stretch and having your BFF say “So.  Wearing Jack Skellington panties today, huh?”  Lovely.  And not like I could leave and change my panties as our Jazzercise class was about to start and I was not gonna go commando.  Plus, where would I have stashed the panties once I removed them?  So yes, I went on knowing that everyone behind me now knew I was wearing Jack Skellington panties.  Did I mention I was in the front row?  Classy.

Back to my fat day issue.  The jeans.  Standing in my bathroom, getting light-headed because I could barely breathe in the fat day jeans, I decided to remove them before I blacked out and try to find a different pair to wear.  Swearing like a sailor and knowing no OTHER pants in my closet were going to fit, I threw them in a hissy on my bed.  Through the tears of frustration, I saw the tag of the pair of jeans peeking at me.  Huh.  Wait.  That size is not the fat day jeans.  Those are the skinny jeans I hope to fit into.  Face palm.  DOH!  Helps if you grab the right pair of jeans out of the closet.  And now I am excited cuz I almost fit into them…Effff off fat day!  Do the half-naked fat girl dance of joy!  I still feel fat, but knowing the fat day jeans are in there and still fit makes me reach for a normal pair and slide them on effortlessly.  Now, let’s go celebrate with a hot fudge sundae!

Oh yeah.  I didn’t die today.  I had a surprise in that grabbing the wrong pair of jeans actually made me feel skinnier and not fatter today but didn’t die.  I am fat girl having a starting out as a fat day and ending up as a skinny day running.  The experiment continues….

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