It’s Groundhog’s Day and boy did I see my shadow! What? It’s getting bigger every year? Say that again and I’ll take you out.
I’m getting bigger every year because I keep going on diets. Then I fall off the wagon and wallow around in the mud … chocolate mud. Then I get mad … automatic weapons mad.
Inside this fat woman is a skinny, angry woman.
Diets piss me off. The only thing they’ve gotten me is fatter and more furious. I hate bulking up. It’s driving me to the gun range.
Yeah, yeah, thanks for pointing out the obvious: at my age, I need fewer calories than an anorexic hamster. And if I am not going to gain weight on 73 calories a day, I have to run on the hamster wheel 27.3 hours a day. I’m a friggin’ fat groundhog. I can’t get on the teeny-tiny hamster wheel.
I can go low-carb, no carb, low-fat, no-fat, high protein, high fiber, points, no points, feast and fast. All of it just increases my obsession with food. So can I help it if my hunter-gatherer ancestors feasted when possible? Hey, I come from an unbroken line of humanity that ate when it could. I’m programmed to eat. So I eat. Get between me and my food and you die. It’s not personal, it’s primal.
Once, I set out to disprove that eating makes you gain weight. I ate anything and everything I wanted. After ten pounds, I was convinced. I’m an experiential learner. I was the kid who truly believed she could fly. It was only after several major crashes from the top of my father’s dresser (“Chester Drawers”) that I got the gravity thing. I hate gravity.
And then there’s stress. It increases your cortisol levels and shunts fat into your belly. Every stressful event in my life has put ten pounds on me, and life can be very, very stressful. I have a choice about how to deal with my stress: I can eat, or I can get an automatic weapon. In the interest of public safety, I eat. (Note to ATF: Do NOT allow fat women to buy automatic weapons.)
Yes, yes, I know the line about, “There are old people; there are fat people. There are no old, fat people.”
Well, I’m going to be a trail blazer. I’m going to walk laps around the friggin’ cemetery. After all, everyone there is skinny NOW. Then tomorrow, I’ll wake up and do it all again: 73 calories and lapping the the dead.
Don’t mess with me while I’m walkin’… I’m packing’ heat in one hand and clutchin’ chocolate in the other.
Make my day, Groundhog.