The decorations are put away. The candy has been eaten. I've gnawed the leftover ham until only the bone was left and I couldn't POSSIBLY cram one more fucking tupperware container into the fridge. In other words, the holiday season is officially over.
Now that we have all gained 30 pounds and are hiding our unsightly flaps, folds, and rolls under our largest sweaters, we are suddenly ecstatic about the cold weather. What used to be "Fuck, it's cold!" has gradually morphed into "lovely weather we're having, isn't it?" Because HEAVEN FORBID it gets warm enough outside to wear a t-shirt. Yep, it's back to the gym for all us fatties who have let ourselves go for the past couple months (and thank god for those little TVs they've got in front of the treadmills now, I gotta catch up on my Jersey Shore).
This is a special time of year I like to refer to as "The Recovery." Our walking pace has slowed, our running shoes have collected cobwebs, and our dignity is nowhere to be found. You know what I say? I say it's high time we rebound out of this season of perpetual binging and get back into the groove! But... well, wait a sec... is that so-called 'groove' really any different than the holiday feasting and non-stop fatassery? Isn't it anytime of year one can find me scarfing down a Bacon Ultimate Cheeseburger, large fry and chocolate shake, only to hold me over for the drive to Taco Bell? I mean let's be real, that fucking Chalupa Meal has my name ALL OVER IT. All day. Every day. Eat great. Even late. Oh and don't forget the crunchwrap! ...What? Oh right, mild sauce, please.
I'm sorry, I don't know what I was talking about. The holiday season is not much different at all from the rest of the year. For the fatasses anyway. *Sigh* I suppose the only difference is that eating is celebrated during the holidays. It brings people together. From Thanksgiving, to Christmas cookies, to advent calendars, candy canes, pies; it's all about eating! Why must the rest of the year be any different? Hmm... ponder that one, bitches, 'cause THIS fat bitch is hittin' the kitchen. Fuck "THE RECOVERY." Psshh... what a crock of shit. Don't mind me, I'm just gonna go microwave a pot pie and put on my new Susan Boyle CD.
These are the Confessions of a Fat Bitch.