Fat Girl Rambles

[dreiser]

I hate to sound like the dyke Jeff Foxworthy but you know you're a fat girl when you're sitting on the toilet in the process of taking a huge poop and you find yourself seriously thinking, "It's very possible I could die of a heart attack sitting here. Man that would suck."

I've already spoken in here about my fatness and blah blabbity blah. I don't really want sympathy about it because that's fucking retarded as I'm the one eating marshmallow flavored popcorn. I honestly just feel like talking about it right now because that's what I fucking do in life. I talk. There's very little I'm good at besides talking. Mostly because for some reason that tiny part of the brain that censors you and keeps you from discussing embarrassing, fucked up, or plain stupid moments/emotions/ideas is broken for me. I have no gag reflex with talking and I have no idea why. It's goddamn weird.

Sometimes I get tired sitting. Isn't that fucked up? What else? Hmmm. I just realized the more I talk about in here the more I risk the chance of that random chick emailing me again. During that std inducing MeMe thing Pern was responsible for where I had to list six things most people wouldn't know about me I revealed I have zero sex drive and some chick emailed me saying that's because of these weight issues and how if I have no sex drive when I DO have sex my orgasms aren't at full orgasmic capacity or some shit. I think she was a female viagra dealer though. Why else would she fucking email a complete stranger about this shit?


I wear boy cut panties because they're comfy and for some obtuse reason make my ass look smaller but because of the side rolls of fat they slightly curl up at the top. lol. Dude, part of me can't believe I'm talking about this. Michi will be so mad.

She hates when I talk about this stuff, it upsets her and she goes into her speech about how I'm losing weight slowly but surely thanks to my meager skating once a week work out schedule. I would skate more but I'm always tired and I'm sure it's due to the fatness but because of the tiredness I don't skate which would help me lose the fatness and not be as tired. It's a vicious evil cycle of pain. I'm going to make myself skate three times a week though because I'm getting sick of this. My Mom, thanks to the strange middle age woman fitness cult of Curves, is skinnier than me. That's fucked up wrong in my world. Way fucked up wrong.

For the hell of it I made an avatar of myself that said, "Nic is 220 lbs." Just to emphasize that despite hating my weight I don't really have much qualms about revealing it. The thing is, I'm not sure that's accurate. Right about now I'm thinking I have to be bigger. 300 lbs seems like too much but lately I think it might be closer to the real thing than 220 definitely. I could weigh myself but scales and mirrors are to me what holy water and crosses are to vampires. I fucking hiss and recoil in hiding at the idea of that shit.

Know what's weird though? I don't have much modesty in a lot of ways. I already told Pat this story in his LJ but I've got this odd habit of feeling really super uncomfortable in my work clothes out of nowhere and just really needing to get them off me to the point it drives me crazy. It's happened several times throughout the years and each time I go out and buy a new pair of cheap jeans and a t-shirt then proceed to find an empty parking lot, try to park behind some sort of view obstructing structure, and change my clothes in public. I know! I could find a bathroom but for some reason this seems easier.

I also wander around clad in just jeans and a bra when I'm in the process of picking a new t-shirt to wear. I tend to change my t-shirts usually twice a day while I change my socks at least five times a day. But I'll get distracted during t-shirt changing process and I just wander around with the bra on past the glass door in my basement dwelling room where my neighbors can see or the curtain free windows at Michi's apartment which are in full view of the Washington University campus. Something she HATES btw. I dunno why. Who would want to peep? lol. But as much as I think my body is crap I don't much care if people see it. Although I refuse to ever show it off.

Slinky clothing is so not my gig. I can't pull that off. The most I do is wear tight shirts as to emphasize big boobs, the one prize in being larger. But I have noticed my boobs get bigger the more I lose weight. It's very odd. Okay. I think I'm done now. I have no idea why I felt like typing all of this but I just did. Maybe it was the pooping that did it. Or the fact I'm on my seventh bottle of Mike's Hard Lemonade.

I ponder.

Comments

[narcolepsy-slds.livejournal.com]

hey, rambling and sharing intimate or embarrassing details of yourself - that is what LJ is for :) it is a combination of a diary and a shrink.

anyway, I am with you on the "my mom is skinnier than me" front, but then my mom does not eat. I have lived 28 years and cannot remember my mom sharing a full meal with us, she usually has a tiny little portion (what I eat while passing by) on her plate to keep up appearances, but does not even finish it.
And it is simply not okay that our moms are skinnier than we are. no matter why.
I also hate mirrors and scales, I haven't been on a scale for a couple of years and when I look in a mirror I don't really look. I check if I can leave the house, but it is more a superficial glance.

And now I have shared too many intimate details about myself as well ...

[dreiser.livejournal.com]

I thought this was written stand up comedy for myself. I hate diaries and I hate shrinks so I loathe the idea that's what this is for me. I prefer to think of it mental rambling meant to be somewhat humorous.

Mirrors are evil.