My big fat rant

I'm a fat lady. A big, soft hugging machine. My sweet boo husband loves all of it but I don't. I don't love it. I feel like I'm trapped inside this body and its getting bigger. I dream sometimes that I'm in the shower and while washing my back, I find a zipper that somehow I have never seen before. I grap the silver tab and unzip, and the fat suit falls away and there is my true body. Not thin and lithe, not perky porno titties, just a regular average size 10 ish body. I am so happy in this dream, I smash up the old fat suit between my toes and watch it go down the shower drain in little pink blobs. I get out of the shower and find my 'real' closet of size 10 ish clothes that have been hiding in the back of my fat closet. Its a fucked up dream and I know that. Here is the thing; I am attracted to larger bodies. I see other people and enjoy the softness and curves. I look at myself and see something that isn't me. It's some Violet Beauregard/Willy Wonka-oops-I-ate-the-blow-up-candy nightmare. I don't have crazy eating habits. I don't eat fast food. I don't eat lots of super processed foods. I love vegis and whole grains. I walk my dog, do occasional yoga and am on my feet nearly all day on a 10 hour shift at work. I cook healthy foods and my kids are all in good shape. WTF? I have considered Bariatric surgery, but the cost is so prohibitive. I giggle thinking about a go fund me page dedicated to shrinking my ass. Here is the kicker; I hurt. All over. my knees feel like they are filled with glass shards, my back kills me all the time. My skin is so thin over my post baby Buddha belly that it's delicate and tears easily. I recently had to have a partial hysterectomy and the belly scars only add to my shame. I feel so trapped.

Back by popular demand...

In a fist fight, my money's on the bitch on the left. Glenn, meet Melissa.

I have discovered these things:

I really am bothered by anklets under pantyhose.

I prefer pants that require no button or zipper to pull down. I will wear jeans, but they have to be able to slip off.

The Dirt Mall is the best place ever. I could have bought a used set of tires, a Chinese umbrella and a Pomeranian puppy all in the same place. I would not, however, buy the eye-color-changing-contacts (only 15 bucks!) or the pseudo-gold and diamond-esque 'Grillz' ala Flavor Flav (also.... you guessed it, 15 bucks!). I draw the line with things that go into my body. That included the food. No Dirt Mall food.

I am trying to trudge thru The Mists of Avalon. Somebody lied to me. Yeah, it's technically good, I like the different viewpoint, but jeez. It is taking me forever. I read books like they are on fire and my eyes shoot water but this little fucker has me almost dreading to crack it open. It's been downgraded to a bathroom reader. I've got to finish the Twilight books instead before the damn movie comes out.

Here's a gratuitous boob/cake shot. I made it for Kelly's bachelorette party. I love the little boobie chocolates. Multicultural. I'm an equal opportunity boob aficionado.