Today I Ate a Whole...

bowl of chocolate pudding

2 ltr of Diet Coke

Chicken Sandwich meal from Burger King plus a vanilla shake

half box of Rice Krispies

bag of chocolate covered pretzels

(not in that order)

The Husband Story, part 2

We ordered another round of drinks. I never drank. Well, except for on Christmas or a special occasion with family. I had to make sure I still had a hold on what was going on around me. The last thing I needed was to get plastered and let this guy do god-knows-what to me.

We chatted more about school, work, friends, sports (I could only nod because I am clueless when it comes to athletics). Then, without warning, he changed the subject to sex. This was the point of the "date" that I dreaded. I didn't want to talk about it, but I also didn't want to seem like a prude.

I didn't know how I should conduct myself. I remember that I kept my eyes on my drink and didn't meet his. Or maybe I did once or twice. I knew I was blushing something fierce. I could feel the heat radiate up my neck and into my cheeks. It was an embarrassing topic for me because I wasn't all that experienced. I had a few hook-ups in the past, but I'd hardly call them relationships. I didn't want to tell him that though, so I did the only thing I could: I lied.

He asked me a lot of questions, many of them I can't remember. Although I know that I answered with whatever it was I thought he wanted to hear. He asked me if I'd ever been in a threesome. I lied and said "yes" but didn't remember much of it "because I was so drunk!" That was a good answer for him, I guess, because he smiled and nodded a lot. He asked me about what I liked in bed and I pretty much said "yes" to everything he mentioned. And I'm positive I didn't know what half the things were he was mentioning. But I just kept telling him what he wanted to hear. And I guess that's what made him ask me out again.

We left the bar before last call. I wasn't drunk at all. He was a bit tipsy. I know this is wrong of me, but I didn't care if he was driving home, walking, or taking a cab. I didn't ask. I just wanted to be alone and away from him. All the talk of sex just made me feel really uncomfortable and numb to the idea of seeing him again. I still felt like a big joke. Like he was going to go home to his buddies and tell them everything I said. And then they will all high-five and have a good laugh. Even though I was thinking this, I found myself agreeing to see him again. I told him I was pretty busy with school work, but I'd let him know when my tests were over and maybe we could get together then. The truth is, I didn't want to see him again, but I was too cowardly to say it. I guess I was worried about hurting his feelings? I don't know. He leaned in to kiss me, but I turned and stammered something stupid to avoid his lips. We ended up giving each other a really awkward hug. And then he said goodbye as I walked to the train.

(to be continued...)

The Husband Story, part 1

I've been married for a while now. My marriage is ok. Not good, not bad. Real bland and boring. We work, we eat, we sleep. That's about it.

When I met my husband, I thought he talked to me only on a dare. His buddies were elbowing him to speak to me (I was minding my own business, eating chicken fingers at the bar, killing time before my train left). So naturally, I thought he was joking or fulfilling a dare when he asked me if he could sit down. I said "ok" and we started talking. I felt too uncomfortable to finish my dinner, so I had the waitress pack it up for me. I can't even tell you what we talked about. All I remember is that he was kind of cute and that I gave him my number when he asked for it. I'd never done that before in my life.

I left the bar knowing that he wouldn't call me. About a week goes by and I'd forgotten about him. I was real busy with work and school and didn't have much time to think about anything else, especially with finals on the horizon. Anyway, one Saturday afternoon I got home from doing some grocery shopping and there was a message from him on my machine. I thought it was a wrong number at first, but then I remembered who it was. He said he wanted to maybe go out for dinner and left his number for me to call him back. I didn't. At least for another day.

When I did get the courage to call him, I asked him why he wanted to see me, of all people. He said that he thought I was "pretty" and "interesting". I didn't know how to take it so I just said "oh". He asked when he could pick me up for dinner. I hesitated, still thinking I was some big (no pun intended) joke. I finally said 8:00, told him where I lived, and hung up.

The dinner was ok. I don't think I ate one bite, even though I was starving. I didn't want him to see me eating. I talked about the courses I was taking and he told me about his job. We talked about our high school days as well as family stuff. When the bill came, he asked me if I wanted to go somewhere else for a drink. I said "ok". I thought it was nice he paid the bill, even though I offered to pay for my half.

We went to some generic sports bar that was around the coner. I hate sports and I'm not very fond of bars, but I didn't put up a fight. The place was loud with people watching basketball on one of the seven thousand televisions. The air smelled of both disinfectant and cigarettes. Strange. And there were mostly men present. I think I only saw one or two other women. I felt uncomfortable right away.

Once we got settled at a booth (I was really uncomfortable squished in, since the table was fastened to the floor and wouldn't push out), we ordered some drinks. He got a beer and I got a whisky sour. I'd never had one before, but it was the first thing that popped into my mind.

When they arrived, he asked me what kind of music I like. I told him. Then we talked about movies we've seen recently. I hadn't seen that many since school got in the way. He thought that was funny for some reason. He asked me if I liked to go dancing. I said I also haven't been able to do that in a long time. He said "well, we'll have to do that when you get some free time."

(to be continued...)

One Day I Ate A Whole...

Box of assorted chocolates. I threw the empty box in the dumpster behind someone else's house so my husband wouldn't find out.

Apple pie. I went to the store and got another one. I cut two slices out and ate those, too, so it wouldn't look like I ate the whole pie. Which I did, plus more. He never knew.

Box of donuts. I didn't have the energy to replace them, so I told my room mate that they fell in the dish water and I had to throw them out (which makes no sense, but then again, she wasn't that bright). I took the trash out just to go along with that lie.

Pan of muffins. I was home alone, so I didn't have to make excuses or lie about that one, since no one knew it happened anyway.

Box of Cocoa Krispies. I just couldn't stop. The milk turns to chocolate!

One pound bag of peanut M&Ms

Three Big Macs, two large fries, two apple pies and a 2 liter of Diet Coke. That was just "lunch". And I ate it in my car because I didn't want anyone to see me. I hid the trash under the seat until I got to work and then threw the evidence in the dumpster.


What have you devoured and then covered up? And why did you feel the need to hide it?

I'm A FAT Girl

I'm Fat.

I've always been fat. I remember kids teasing me in kindergarten because I couldn't fit into the play house that was in our classroom. The thing is, I never tried, so how would they know? I was always too scared to go in there because they kept saying I'd get stuck. Of course, I should have done it to prove them wrong, but you try telling my 5 year old self that.

My body just kept getting fatter and fatter as I got older. And the irony is that I didn't eat poorly and I was exercising as much as an active 10 year old could. But the fat just kept piling on. The teasing and hurtful words never stopped, either. Once when I was in fifth grade, a 'popular' girl pretended to be my friend just so she could 'borrow' my brand new neon jelly bracelets. Needless to say, I never saw her, or the bracelets, again.

When I got to college, I became the Fat Girl everyone loved to hate. The people who didn't like me didn't even know me. I believe they didn't even know my name. But they loved to hate me and tease me because I was fat. They didn't want to sit next to me in class. No one wanted to pair up with me to work on projects. They couldn't get past what they saw in front of them in order to see what I'm all about. And I didn't lose my virginity until I was 21, drunk, and knew the guy wouldn't talk to me when it was all said and done. It hurt for a long time, but then I decided to ignore it. That was a big mistake.

By ignoring these jerks who called me "two ton tessy", "lard-ass", and "fat pig" (among others), I didn't become this awesomely powerful woman you are probably expecting. Instead, I took refuge in food. Instead of sticking up for myself, I'd drown myself in a pint of Chubby Hubby. Instead of speaking out against sizeism, I'd opt to sit on the couch and eat a whole pizza. Food was comforting and didn't call me names. So I'd much rather spend my time with a bag of tortilla chips than with people.

The story doesn't get any happier, people. If you're looking for a "Here's my life story about how I was once a Fatty and now I'm not!", you should move on. It's been 10 years since I graduated college, and not much has changed. The only real difference is that I'm married. Yeah! This Fat Girl found a man! But that story isn't all it's cracked up to be, either.

So stick around and read on, if you wish. I'm not looking for a pity party, either. I'm mostly writing this in hopes that one day, someday, I'll overcome my addiction to food and my inability to stop filling my life with shit I don't need.

I'm not expecting much, since my only real accomplishments are the ones I can eat.

Hey! Fat Girl!

This is my first post on this blog. I hope you will come back and visit again some time.