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.