My Earlobes Still Feel Fat

It’s not exactly the perfect end to a perfect meal at one of New York’s best restaurants, on my knees in a beautiful, dark wood paneled bathroom,* throwing up house-made raspberry truffles into a once pristine toilet, while cool lounge music plays softly in the background.  I’m just praying nobody can hear me, and also that the auto-flush won’t go off in my face. Sometimes I wish I could turn the GB off.  Not so I can binge on Ben & Jerry’s, or stuff my face with ballpark hotdogs, but for special meals like Per Se in New York or Ristorante Semplice in London.  It would be nice to be able to have a set menu at a Michelin-starred restaurant without spending the rest of the evening either curled on my side (best-case) or throwing up (worst-case).  But it would be worse to miss out on all the amazing food on offer! And drink.  Wine takes up a surprising amount of space in my stomach, especially rich reds like the delicious Barolos my bf likes to order (and I...

The other night, the bf and I were watching this show called “Inside Nature’s Giants,” which we didn’t realize at first involves dissecting the big-ass animals of land and sea.  We chose to watch the episode about whales, because they’re frickin fascinating and also because I love tigers too much to watch one get cut up.  But I wish we had chosen the tigers, because the whole time they were slicing through the whale, and the fatty, slippery flesh was sliding all over the beach, and the scientists were covered in grease, I kept thinking about my body.  How that was probably what I looked like when the doctors were slicing me up and pulling off hunks of my blubber.  How that's still what my body feels like in places: loose, slippery, uncontained . My classmates are always saying I have a very ‘descriptive’ touch when it comes to talking about my body, and my friend N pointed out that I frequently use food metaphors/similes, which is kind of interesting.  But ...

The lovely bf took me to Mexico a couple of months ago, and I started a blog post there.  Obviously, I never finished it, because I was distracted by the beautiful pool and our personal pastry class and the delectable food everywhere we turned, but I looked at it again today and realized that the subject I wanted to touch on is still worth discussing.  Basically, I started the post with a photo of the amazing resort where we were staying.  And I mean AMAZING.  I’ve never before in my life stayed at a hotel so beautiful and comfortable and just plain stunning that I didn’t want to leave the compound walls.  I’m all about real Mexico– the people, the culture, the food– but I had absolutely no desire to leave ever.  I could seriously live in this amazing place.  This is important for you to know, not so I can brag, but so you can understand how pissed off I was to still feel like such a fat cow.  I mean, here I was, with my own private villa w...

... but the dude over at Egotastic has finally posted photos of someone above a size 2.*  Not only that, he defends her hotness against those people who would say she's too fat to be attractive in a bikini!  AND since the blog doesn't have a comments section, I can just pretend that's the end of it.  No trolls!  Hooray huzzah and yippeeee! That is all.** * Yes, I'm aware she's probably still only a size 6 or something, but just let me have my moment anyway. **Okay, yes, I am aware that I haven't posted in forever .  There's a post-in-waiting about my recent trip to Mexico (and bikinis), but this was more pressing, and less work, so you'll just have to wait for the mexico post.

I woke up this morning and checked my twitter account (yes, I know), and one of the first things I saw was a link to this post by a writer named Amy Alkon (I'll let you read it instead of summarizing).  Amy writes with wild abandon about all the people who annoy her in life, and usually I appreciate her no-holds-barred approach.  But this time, I felt she went too far.  Not because she's being cruel to a fat person, but because she's being cruel unnecessarily.  And, more importantly, unfunnily.  And it's not just her; the commenters on the post have their fangs out too. And I don't get it.  I mean, I get it: this chick gained 40 lbs and her boyfriend doesn't sleep with her anymore, so obviously she needs to lose weight (or lose the guy, which nobody seemed to think was an option for this obviously morbidly obese woman).  What I don't get is the poison.  Why do people have so much hatred in their hearts for fat people?  What is it about f...

These days, curves are infinitely preferable to straight up-and-down body types.  Or so we're told.  But we're also told that said curves have to be wee and firm, taut and high, perfectly rounded and impeccably proportioned.  So all those curvy chicks out there, flaunting their J-Lo asses and Christina Hendricks breasts (DROOOL), and ostensibly shattering the myth of Twiggy, serve less to comfort me than as an even higher standard of sex appeal which I'll never reach. As a result, I often feel disappointed when I buy a dress I think looks great on me, only to see it on the model (or mannequin), with her (its) perfect, bounce-a-quarter-off-that-ass curves and realize that the dress only looks great on me in comparison to other items in my closet.  From a more objective, overall, survey-the-world sort of view, it looks just ok, mostly due to my many lumps and bumps, and my massive hips. BUT.  This past weekend, I was in New York with the bf, and he insisted on...

A couple of days ago (on Valentine’s day, in fact), Kevin Smith was kicked off a Southwest Airlines plane for being ‘too fat to fly.’  You can read the details on Kevin’s blog , if you haven’t already been following the debacle on Twitter (I say debacle in seriousness– Twitter crashed at least twice last night as a result of ‘too many tweets’). This isn’t a post about that occurrence specifically, mostly because it’s already been hashed out to death but also because Smith’s whole point is that he doesn’t actually qualify as too fat to fly; he fits in the seat with the armrests down and the seatbelt buckled, unextended.  What I want to talk about is the policy, held by multiple airlines, that those ‘customers of size’ (I think I threw up a little just now) who can’t fit in the seat with the armrests down must purchase two seats at full price. Look, I get it.  It sucks to have someone encroaching on your space, especially on an airplane, where space is already at such ...