Friday, December 18, 2009

Happy Holidays, Pt. 2: Advent Calendars

Who ACTUALLY eats advent calendars the right way? I mean let's be real for a sec, one measly chocolate Jesus or whatever per day never got anyone anywhere. All the fatasses know that eating the entire calendar in one sitting is the only way to play the game.

These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

Monday, November 30, 2009

Happy Holidays, Pt. 1: All About Eating

Ohh, the holidays. It really is the most wonderful time of the year. Peace and happiness to one and all. Especially for the fatasses! I mean, let’s be real, the holiday season is ALL. ABOUT. EATING.

First, Thanksgiving: an entire holiday devoted solely to binge eating. What could be more wholesome or natural? For weeks, gluttony wreaks mass hysteria in every supermarket across America. Fatties rampage down the aisles, fighting for turkey, gravy, stuffing, chicken, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, ham (honey-glazed, please), CORN, bread rolls, pumpkin pies, pecan pies, apple pies, every kind of pie, BUTTER, I mean helloooo the list goes on forever. [Note: Be sure to whip out the heavy-duty plastic because those plates are going to be under some serious pressure.] Thanksgiving is a prolonged period of situational insanity, a feeding frenzy that starts to wear off just in time for Christmas.

Let’s take a closer look at Christmas, shall we? Gingerbread houses, candy canes, chocolate Santas, those Lifesaver storybook things, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Christmas cookies (including but not limited to snickerdoodles, chocolate chips, oatmeal raisins, peanut butters, Mexican wedding cakes, double-chocolate chips, Double Stuf oreos), cakes, candies, pumpkin pies, pecan pies, apple pies, every kind of pie, brownies, hot chocolate, peppermint mochas, peppermint bark, and whatever else your huge fucking ass desires.

‘Tis a glorious season, is it not? There’s a good reason people start wearing sweaters and baggy sweatshirts around the holidays and, ladies and gentlemen, I’ll be the first to tell you… it’s not because we’re cold. It’s because we’re fat bitches.

These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

Thursday, September 3, 2009

Free Bread

The self-control of fatasses across the globe has been tested for centuries time and time again by a small and often overlooked component of the restaurant industry: free bread.

Becoming notably apparent to me within the past couple of days, free bread is an ever-present fatty hazard lurking around every corner. Italian restaurants, pizza parlors, Pat & Oscar’s, The Olive Garden… EVERYWHERE. For instance, the other night, I went to Mamma D’s with some friends and there I was introseduced to their absolutely heavenly bread. Every couple of minutes or so, the pretty bitch with the basket would come wheeling around with a smile on her face and say “more bread?” And I’d look up at her with my kankles, teary eyes, clogged arteries and mouth full and simply nod “yes.”

Another night shortly after, I found myself at California Pizza Kitchen for a going away party. I had forgotten my wallet in my car so the server kept bringing me bread. Plate after plate. Slice after slice. Butter packet after butter packet. The only going away I was concerned about that night was that of my non-diabetic status.

The moral of this story is: take it when you can get it, folks. Fatties, there’s a recession going on out there. These days, when someone offers you free food, you snatch it and run. And if you’re not hungry (which… I mean let’s be real, when does that happen?) you grab it, stick it in your purse and save it for later.

These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

Sunday, August 16, 2009

The Trouble with Cupcakes

Just the other day was my sister’s birthday. So, typical of my mother on any given holiday, a selection of sweets was in order. In this particular instance: cupcakes. The trouble with cupcakes is, well, they are fucking delightful.

Conveniently cup-sized treats comprised of fluffy cakes topped with heavenly sweet frosting, they make for the ideal dessert. HOWEVER. Being that cupcakes are cup-sized as opposed to the larger size of a regular-sized cake, there is an unwritten law that you can eat more cupcakes to make up for the fact that they are indeed smaller.

Therefore, of course, I take advantage of this situation and grab one of every flavor: chocolate, vanilla, red velvet, coconut, strawberry and mocha. KEEP IN MIND that I’ve already stuffed myself with sushi at dinner, which means not only have I overeaten but I’ve over-soyed which is an altogether separate experience, dreadfully unpleasant in itself.

Cut to me, bloated and ever-expanding on my futon, emotionally raw and watching Sophie’s Choice. If there is one thing I learned from Meryl Streep’s character Sophie in that movie, it is that there comes a time in everybody’s life when one is forced to make sacrifices in order to move forward to better days. And god damn it my sacrifice is NOT going to be cupcakes!

These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

Monday, August 10, 2009


The cravings of a fatass defy all logic and science. A sudden and inexplicable lust for food is a terrifying phenomenon that strikes hard and without warning, similar to natural disasters. Like a natural disaster, onlookers are shocked by the horrific display of the fatass “in the zone” and the damages done could potentially take years to recover from. Unlike a natural disaster, these cravings are not natural in any way, shape, or form and witnesses’ employers cannot write off therapist sessions administering treatment for post-traumatic stress disorder.

Luckily for world peace, my episode occurred around 3:30 AM Pacific Standard Time, so there wasn't anyone watching me (except maybe Jesus) and there were not any cars on 17th Street for me to worry about as I cruised, both hands off the wheel, dressing my Del Taco chicken soft taco with multiple packets of hot sauce. As I maneuvered my way through a left turn at a stoplight using my knees for steering whilst simultaneously placing my large cherry Coke back in its cupholder with one hand and shoveling the rest of the taco down my throat with the other hand, I thought to myself… I’m getting too good at this.

But hey, in a world with McDonald’s Free Mocha Mondays, Wendy’s door-hanger buy one get one free Frosty coupons, and a new Yogurtland right down the street from my house, what is too good these days anyway?

These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

Tuesday, July 28, 2009

We Meet Again

Today, we meet again at the crossroads of my love-hate relationship with McDonalds. As my loyal fans and subscribers know, I have been livid for weeks about McDonalds' implementation of a twenty-five-cent charge on BBQ sauces. My heart was thrown for a loop AGAIN the other day by this whimsical genie of a fast food establishment when it announced Free Mocha Mondays out of the blue!

For a limited time only, like all good things, Free Mocha Mondays takes place every Monday from 7am-7pm and one can get a free (small-sized, of course) iced or hot mocha. Is this charity? Is this coming out of the sheer kindness of the heart of Ronald McDonald, himself? Is Big Business America treating its economically and diabetically suffering citizens with a delightful summer sweet?

NO! This is a transparent-as-transfat ploy to lure the ignorant and unsuspecting fatasses into the golden arched drive thru! After all, it is common knowledge that the average fatass, when reeled in by a freebie, will drop tens (if not hundreds) on items including but not limited to Happy Meals, Big Mac Specials, McFlurries, apple pies and other desserts and merchandise products including but not limited to hats, buttons, stickers and triple-XL t-shirts and sweatsuits.

This Mocha Monday, however, I drove through and grabbed my free iced mocha with nairy a glance at the menu--shining bright like a beacon of hope to hungry hippos everywhere. That's it! Just an iced coffee! Not a single McNugget! I don't know what came over me. Did I do this out of spite for their relentless marketing strategies? Whatever the inspiration... I won. Take that Ronald McDonald!!! ...and see ya tomorrow.

These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Nothing spells "FATASS" like...

-an In N Out license plate frame.

-signing up for the Sprinkles Cupcakes mailing list.

-being on a first name basis with McDonalds employees.

-getting weekly email coupons from the Honeybaked Ham Company... and using them.

-having a "regular order" at all major fast food restaurants.

-being the author of a blog titled Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

(feel free to comment with your own)

Saturday, June 6, 2009

Moments of Confliction

There are times in every fatass’s life, where he/she feels distraught, confused, and emotionally destroyed beyond repair. My current situation with McDonalds is a perfect example of a fatty’s moment of confliction.

As many of you fast food lovers may have noticed, McDonalds now charges for barbeque sauce. BARBEQUE SAUCE. They’re fucking charging for condiments now. If this is not a slap in the face to the fatass community, I don’t know what is. First of all, there is a fucking recession going on right now, McDonalds, are you aware? A RECESSION. With 25 cents per barbeque sauce, 2 chicken nuggets per sauce, and 10 nuggets in a ten-piece box, that adds up to an extra $1.25 for every order just for my goddamn condiments. I could get three more fresh baked cookies off the dollar menu with that shit. And second, do you have the slightest idea how much business I have given you over the years? You advertise “over 99 billion served”--my orders alone account for well over half of that number! I mean hell, if I had a quarter for every minute I spent sitting in the drive thru salivating over the thought of those apple pies, I would be able to afford my barbeque sauces you’re now charging me for.

I’m clearly passionate about this disgusting consumer abuse. It’s downright unjust. But as a loyal McDonalds customer, it is difficult for me to be so angry with them. It’s as if someone that I have loved for years cheated on me, stabbed me in the back. It hurts but I still love them. And what makes it even more confusing is they are now offering free glass Coke cups when you super-size any combo meal. I mean come on make up your mind, are you going to be an asshole or are you not? I would much rather get my barbeque sauces for free than a fucking cup I don’t even need (but desperately want, hello, let's be real, they’re collector’s items).

*Sigh* No one ever said being a fatass was easy. I suppose I thought that by losing all concern of maintaining a goal body weight, optimum health, and fitting into my clothes comfortably would mean less things to worry about. Boy, was that far from the truth. Now I am faced with all sorts of moments of confliction: Del Taco or Taco Bell, special sauce or ketchup and mustard, drive thru or sit down, leave a tip or peruse the dollar menu a second time. Although, amidst all the dilemmas and in the endless quest for truth, one thing remains sure: the answer to the question “would you like to super-size that?” is always “yes.”

These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

The Fat Four

The beauty of fatasses is that they stem from all walks of life. With backgrounds in every race, sex, gender and orientation, fatasses comprise one of the most diverse sectors of human demographics. As in any categorical organization, within a group there exist multiple subgroups, and fatasses are no exception. I have developed a theory that will hitherto be referred to as The Fat Four.

What the theory of The Fat Four states is: “every member of Club Fatass falls into one of four subgroups which define their connection to fat society; these subgroups being binge eaters, stress eaters, bored eaters, and sleep eaters.” Although my theory is yet to make it into all the leading nutrition textbooks, its foundation and truth rings sound and pure. I will now define each subgroup for you so that you may recognize which you identify with most.

The Binge Eater
The largest of the four subgroups, the Binge Eaters are the most recognizable of all because they are the fattest. Binge Eaters possess a shameless way about them that more often than not surpasses any notion of concern about their outward appearance. Often caught crying in public for no apparent reason and smelling the inside of their take-out food bags even after the food has been consumed, Binge Eaters are the most emotionally complicated of The Fat Four. You may be familiar with cliché quotes that originated in the community such as “I eat because I’m unhappy” and “I’m unhappy because I eat.” While in itself Binge Eating Disorder and all that it encompasses as a legitimate psychiatric problem is not funny, watching one suffer from it is. You may have seen me in a dead sprint through a box of biscuits outside a KFC or you may be familiar with the MTV classic True Life: I Can’t Stop Eating. Both offer prime examples of Binge Eaters in action—striking near and dear to my heart because this is the community that I, and millions of other fatties on this planet, belong to.

The Stress Eater
The Stress Eater is most common among the businessperson and college (or AP) student demographic. Defined as the fatass who sublimates their stress with food, the Stress Eater uses food as a drug. The Stress Eater uses food for one purpose and one purpose only and that is to alleviate their stress. Stress Eaters are at high risk for addiction to eating because without it, their life is chaos. They cannot get through an essay, a business proposition or a conference call without a Whopper, pint of Ben & Jerry’s Cherry Garcia, a large pizza or all of the above. While the Stress Eaters do not eat as much as Binge Eaters, their issues are still critical. But hey, at least they’re working.

The Bored Eater
Also referred to as losers, Bored Eaters have nothing better to do than eat. They eat recreationally. Arguably the most pitiful of The Fat Four, Bored Eaters often procrastinate doing things like getting a job or feeding their child by cuddling up with a bucket of chicken wings and watching Divorce Court. Their eyes tend to glaze over as their minds wander in carefree ecstasy, stopping in the middle of household chores to enjoy a cookie found wedged between seat cushions. Bored Eaters’ most serious symptom is something I call “time lapse.” Time lapse is when an individual sits down with a box of Cheez-It Party Mix and before they know it, the entire box is empty. If you don’t even remember eating it, what’s the point?

The Sleep Eater
I first discovered the magic of Sleep Eating on Halloween of 2007 when I woke up in the back of my car in a sea of candy wrappers still chewing on a Tootsie Roll. I had apparently blacked out in my Toyota 4Runner, still in my Peter Pan outfit mind you, and plowed through my candy—which btw, I have NO recollection of acquiring. Months later, I was on the ellipticals at the gym watching Tyra and low and behold, the episode was all about Sleep Eating! Tyra went on to explain how sleep eating is characterized by sleepwalking and excessive nocturnal overeating… love it, right? So its basically people who eat in their sleep. How ‘bout that! Some people just cannot get enough food during their hours awake so they continue to munch in their sleep. Again the scary thing with Sleep Eaters, much like time lapse with Bored Eaters, they are not consciously aware of the fact that they are eating. And I think that it is more than safe to say that if you are eating and you don’t even know it, you’re a fatass.

So that’s The Fat Four, ladies and gentlemen. I’ll be interested to hear from you all about which subgroup you identify with. For most of us fatties, we hop around from one subgroup to the other. A little fatass twist on the game of hopscotch, if you will. If you’re like me, you may identify strongly with one of them as your Primary Fatass Subgroup Association and experience sporadic episodes displaying characteristic symptoms of the others. If you’re different, more power to you. That’s the great thing about being a fatass; there are no rules. You do whatever the hell you want and you eat whatever you want. So long as you’re at least 600 pounds and you can’t see your feet, you’re in the club.

These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

Eater's Remorse

How appropriate is it that I introduce Eater’s Remorse to you just after eating three large rice crispy treats in a matter of seconds?

Allow me to present to you… Eater’s Remorse. A disease, nay, a LIFESTYLE that has defined me since the dawn of my conception, Eater’s Remorse is best described as “the empty, shameful feeling one experiences after stress eating, compulsive eating, and or binging.” Sometimes accompanied by flashbacks to previous incidences, which can occur years after the episode, Eater’s Remorse has no mercy to its beholder. It will ravage any fatass it chooses to possess and will never stop.

Do you think you may be a chronic sufferer of Eater’s Remorse? Allow me to enlighten you with an anecdote from my personal life:

It was July 23rd, 2008. McDonalds on Pacific Coast Highway in Newport Beach (might I add the best McDonalds I have ever set foot in—plasma screen televisions and incomparable chicken nuggets). It was sometime around 10 PM: prime fatass cruising hour, ALL the drive-thrus are jammed. I drove through McDonalds, shamelessly rambled off my multi-thousand calorie regular order without so much as batting an eyelash: the two cheeseburger meal, large fries, coke, ten piece chicken nuggets and four barbeque sauces (Note to McDonalds employees: DO NOT fuck up on the barbeque sauce count because it has the ability to make or break the order and therefore the entire experience altogether.) I then plow through the two bags it takes to pack my collosal order and, as I make my way through the second cheeseburger, it begins to dawn on me… I just consumed nearly half of my body weight in a high calorie/trans-fat/cholesterol binge… and I forgot to order a McFlurry.

This is a situation you may recognize to be strikingly similar to one of your own. Whether it be Del Taco, Burger King, In N Out, Taco Bell, Jack in the Box or WingStop—Eater’s Remorse attacks suddenly and without warning. However, long time sufferers of Eater’s Remorse become all too familiar with the symptoms and even anticipate the attack before they even start eating. These foreshadowing pains of guilt sometimes, but not always, inspire the fatass to make better choices.

But you know, sometimes its absolutely necessary to hit rock bottom to really help you see that you have a problem. And if I define my rock bottom as sitting alone in my car in the McDonalds parking lot in the middle of the night crying and smoking a post-binge cigarette—I have had too many rock bottom experiences to count. I recognize that I have a problem. And THIS ladies and gentlemen, THIS is the irreconcilable evil that is Eater’s Remorse. The addiction to food and the unconditional comfort it brings.

These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

Friday, April 24, 2009

Welcome to The Confessional

Hi. Welcome to Peter's Confessional. This blog will provide you with an intriguing insight into the private life and experiences of one sir Peter [of the] Jackson.

The autobiographical series "Confessions..." has been underway for years now. With the advent of the internet blog, I find it only appropriate to abandon my dream of becoming a member of Oprah's Book Club and traveling the world on a book-signing tour. Rather, I will follow suit and reach across my fan base in the cyberworld, starting with the first volume of the series, Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

My vision for Confessions of a Fat Bitch is that I will reach out to fatasses across this nation and beyond. In a world polluted with diet books, vegan restaurants, Nutrisystem and uncracked scales, it is about time someone came out and reminded humanity that we were all born with the capacity to eat. Everybody gets hungry. Everyone has one time or another single-handedly gone through a tub of Tollhouse chocolate-chip cookie dough in one sitting. We are ALL in this together.

Wouldn't it be a better world if FAT was the ideal body type? With skinny people binging at McDonalds trying to catch up, skipping past the gym to the local Dairy Queen, and fatties shamelessly lounging on the beach in bikinis hidden in crevasses by rolls and overflowing muffin tops?

I wait for the day. However, unfortunately society is still jaded. And the fatties continue to lurk (and eat) in the shadows... bitter and afraid. I must speak out. Our voice will be heard. This is my story: Confessions of a Fat Bitch.

Experiencing it all so you don't have to,
Peter of the Jackson
CEO of The Confessional