McStake

I was feeling a little bit chubby and dejected after long week and a worse day including two traffic jams, when on my way home I decided to stop for some food.

Mistake one: Never stop for food when you're feeling bad about yourself.

Problem one: Construction. Why is there construction on every road I travel on? Just once this year I really wish I could just get somewhere without sitting in construction related traffic. I'm starting to despise those damn yellow cones nearly as much as my first ex-husband - and that is not easy. That man makes Lindsey Lohan look like a choir girl.

Problem two: The only places to get food without getting into more traffic is ... fast food.

My karma started working on me as soon as I pulled into that McDonald's driveway.

I ordered my angus burger and fries with a side of tartar sauce - because let's face it, if you're going to do it you may as do it right. The tartar was for the fries - a tasty little trick I learned in Paris (Yes, I can manage to eat garbage in a country known for the best cuisine in the world).

Of course, there was no tartar sauce in my bag when I got home.

But wait! Oh, lucky me, I have tartar sauce in my fridge!

Halfway through my "meal" I decided the tartar tasted - off. That's when the date on the bottle caught my eye.

That tartar had expired - in 2007.

Mistake two: Eating tartar and french fries. What is wrong with me??

That did for me. I deserved it. After being so good for days and days that's what I get for breaking down and eating high-calorie, zero nutrition filler.

I checked the rest of my condiments and I don't why, but I was shocked to find that some of condiments actually dated back to the Clinton presidency. In fact, I think some of them came into the house with that first husband.

I quit right then and there. I gave my remaining food to my two little dogs - they'd really been getting my nerves lately anyway.

Instead I ate mini tomatoes out of my garden. They were delicious; they actually tasted like food.

Sun Chips Bags are Genius

My co-workers were eating Sun Chips yesterday and Jason a.k.a. "the office food cop" observed that the bag was really, really loud.

“How am I supposed to sneak chips with a bag this loud?” he asked.

It should be noted he was also trying to sneak cookies and said the plastic container they were in was too loud as well. Note to food manufacturers: Please make your containers quieter for us PHAT folk. (Why are you sneaking so much food, Jason?)

We do a lot of eatin’ around here.

It turns out we’re not the only ones that think the new Sun Chips bag is super loud.

There’s a Facebook group called “SORRY BUT I CAN’T HEAR YOU OVER THIS SUN CHIPS BAG” that has over 33,000 fans.

The Wall Street Journal even wrote a story about it.

They quoted someone who said it’s “the worst when your stoned at 2 a.m. and trying to not wake up the house.” (Hmmm. I wonder where the WSJ is finding their sources?)

That bag got me to thinking.

What if every food you ate was really loud and drew attention to you?

That could be a really good diet incentive.

“Rene is eating her fourth helping of Doritos,” the bag could announce when I reach into it. Or, “This is your third Oreo” or "That's 600 calories Tubby," or “Look at Rene eat this doughnut” when I stick my pudgy hand into the box.

Nobody wants to eat annoying, snarky food.

They already market cookie jars that moo or oink when you open them and little things for your fridge that will do the same when you open the fridge door.

Apparently we PHATties have been shameless for a while.

On the flipside (also a tasty cracker), healthy foods could say things like, "Look at how smart you are!" or "Bet you're going to lose a pound this week!" But healthy food doesn't generally come in bags or boxes.

Perhaps Sun Chips is onto something here. Every time someone reaches into that bag we turn and look.

“That’s five times today, Karl, we are trying to work over here, geez.” (Just joking boss, we know how much you like your chips. Here! Have more chips!)

I think I’m going to start putting all of my food into Sun Chip bags. I could use them for sandwiches, leftovers … chili, pretty much anything.

The rule would be that I have to eat it directly from the bag - no taking the food out of the bag to eat.

Either I’ll lose weight because I don’t want everyone to hear every bite I take, or I’ll be PHAT and deaf.

Pretty much I've got nothing to lose. Except my hearing. I’ll just get earplugs.

Hey, wait ... Karl! Save some of those chips for the rest of us!!

Goodbye Old Friend

I was so sad to hear that the comic strip “Cathy” is going to end that I almost ordered myself a chocolate fountain and six pound cakes to mourn.

Cathy has been the comic I turn to every week and enjoy just as much as I do free cookies samples at the grocery store - a lot.

I’ve always felt that Cathy, via her creator Cathy Guisewite, really had her pulse on the typical day in the life of an average woman.

Cathy struggled through the "four basic guilt groups" of life — food, love, mom, and work — the strip pokes fun at the foibles of modern women.

She went through the same type of trials and tribulations that I do – an obsession with weight, shopping, pets, shoes, boyfriends – “AACK!”

Just read some of her book titles: “Wake Me Up When I’m a Size 5” (1985); “Abs of Steel, Buns of Cinnamon” (1997); “Shoes: Chocolate for the Feet" (2000). "think I'm having a Relationship with a Blueberry Pie!" (1981) :Only Love Can Break a Heart, But a Shoe Sale Can Come Close" (1992).

Cathy always made me feel connected to other women and feel better about my own troubles. She always made me laugh.

Her strip is scheduled to end in October. I’m going to miss her.

I quit.

I quit today. I caved; abandoned all hope of victory over the flab that rules my body.

I can’t take it anymore.

As I write this I’m shoving Nacho Cheese Doritos down my throat and feeling sick. Sick of the world. Sick of food marketers. Sick of bad food that tastes good. Sick of avoiding all the food I enjoy.

I don’t have what it takes. Skinny girls really are a special breed.

Yeah, I’m ashamed. I hate myself. More than that, I HATE hating myself just because it’s so easy to eat an entire family sized bag of Doritos.

Why’d they have to make them so damn good, cheap and convenient? (There’s a hooker joke I’m not going to put right here) I can get them in three flavors in the vending machine right outside of my office door for less than $1.

The Doritos weren’t even my only indiscretion. I’ve been cheating my ass off – except my ass is only getting bigger.

Last week I went to a Pure Romance party where they sell “intimate” devices for lovers – enough said – and in between licking flavored lotions off each other’s arms and sniffing each other’s boobs, women eat dips and sweets.

The first thing I saw was a tray of delectable homemade cream puffs.

My immediate instinct was to tackle that tray and have my way with it, but I didn’t.

I fought the urge and won for about an hour until the evil maker of said creampuffs practically shoved one down my all too willing throat.

Thank you Cathy’s creampuffs, you have ruined my life.

It didn’t stop with the creampuff. Over the weekend, away from home, I ate two jumbo chocolate chip cookies and felt guilty and fat and horrible with every sweet gooey bite ... but I did it anyway.

What’s worse – I haven’t been walking nearly as much since that immoral little pastry entered my life.

Now I’m feeling FAT and lazy and horrible and I just want to quit.

Even worse is that my week is filled with meetings and another weekend away from home with more good food opportunities.

What’s a PHAT girl supposed to do?

So I quit. At least until Monday.

FAT = STUPID

I might actually be dumb because of how fat I am. I guess I can stop blaming my parents.

A study just published in the journal “Human Brain Mapping” compared the brains of people who were obese, overweight, and normal - aka probably too skinny - and found that Fat people have less brain mass.

For the record, according to my Wii Fit, I’m obese. My Wii Fit may also be obese – since it is a big idiot.

In any case, I’m not alone.

The World Health Organization estimates more than 300 million people across the planet are obese, and another billion more are overweight. None of these people live in Hollywood.

The study, which I found at Naturalnews.com indicates that being too fat also causes brain degeneration and maybe even Alzheimer’s disease.

The scientists set out to document whether the brains of normal, fat and obese people were the same.

I’m no scientist, but I could have told them the answer – PHAT people have way better brains than stick chicks – suck on that skinnies. Come on, don't be mad; at least let us have the brains.

What the guys in white coats found was that obese and overweight people had between four and eight percent less brain tissue than people of "normal" weight. That probably explains alot of the things that go on in my family.

Wouldn't you know it? Three months on this weight loss plan and the only place I’m losing weight is in my brain? Unfreakinbelievable.

This study marks the first time anyone has established a link between being fat and having what scientist Paul Thompson called ... drumroll please... “severe brain degeneration.”

Alright, Mom, you were right.

Thompson said, “The brains of obese people looked 16 years older than the brains of those who were lean, and in overweight people looked eight years older.”

Great. I'm fat, Stupid and have a brain like a milkshake. Ooooh. Milkshake. Yum.

I assume this study explains where those five pounds went. Goodbye brain - you never did me much good anyway.

It turns out that the largest area of brain loss was in the the sensory lobe.

My theory is that us PHATies don’t have enough "sense" to stop eating and the Alzheimers effect makes us forget that we just ate - Ooo a cookie! I want one! Co-worker: "You just had one." Did I? I don't remember, give me another one.

I'll bet those scientist were skinny. PHAT scientists would have never started this study. Is there such a thing as a PHAT scientist? I don't think so. I wonder what's up with that. If I wasn't so stupid I'd try to figure it out.

This picture is of three of my brothers, known here as Obese, Fat and Skinny, using their combined brain power to nearly burn down a forest. For the record: I told them it was a bad idea. P.S. No trees were harmed during this incredibly stupid act. My study indicates that the scientists were probably right, as it was Obese's idea to start this fire.

Someday You Will Ache Like I Ache

I've developed a new exercise motivation technique – trotting behind my 13-year-old daughter Autumn and her friends on the park track.

Nothing will keep you moving like two young, thin girls in front of you. It even works better than pictures of skinny, half nude women on the refrigerator to keep you from eating.

Of course, there was no way could I keep up with them. We are different like pumas and donkeys. I need not tell you who the ass was.

I reminded them I’m over twenty years older than they are and at least 70 pounds heavier, but they don’t see those as viable excuses.

They did keep turning around and cheering me on. Once, I thought I heard something like “tub o lard,” but I couldn’t really tell from the blood pounding in my head. They told me later they said, “Boy you work hard” of course.

When they turned back around and laughed hysterically, I knew it was just because of how much fun we were having.

While I slogged along behind them, seeing them like a mirage ahead of me, hearing them laughing in the distance, I daydreamed about when I’d be able to keep up with them and the things we’d laugh about together.

“Remember when you were so PHAT you jogged a mile behind us and kept yelling for us to slow down, but we pretended not to hear you?” or “Wasn’t it a blast that time we had to call 911 after she passed out on the track and crushed that squirrel to death?”
“What about that time we left her in our skinny, youthful dust and we found her an hour later laying on the grass crying and cursing God and she said her tears were just sweat?”

Yes, those sweet girls and I will make many memories on this journey and then one day when they get old and fat I’ll be the one laughing.


Here is a woman that understands. Thank you Courtney Love.

I'm No Loser

Months of sweating, starving and generally hating life have finally paid off. I have lost FIVE entire pounds.

It may not seem like much, because, well, it's not.

I blame my competitive nature; I don’t like to lose and I take it seriously; too seriously apparently.

I am happy about the five crummy pounds though.

I delayed making this announcement in case the scale was faulty or maybe it was “water” weight, or the Chihuahua jumped on the scale behind me while my back was turned, or I gained it back.

It’s been a couple of weeks now and the five pounds doesn’t seem to be coming
back – like my sanity – it’s long gone.

While five pounds doesn’t seem like much, it is the equivalent of say a child’s bowling ball, or the stuff I took out of my purse the other day, so that’s worth something, right?

One good thing I noticed from it is, while hiding in my darkened closet, when I lifted my shirt I found that my belly rolls are now covering less of my thighs!

Bonus! I can see my upper thighs!

I haven’t seen the top of my thighs in ages! They’re pastier than I thought. (Note to self: better razors and fake tanning lotion needed.)

At this rate, with the 50 pound weight loss goal I set, I'll only be writing this blog for say the next fifty years.

Huh, I wonder if we'll still have "blogging" in fifty years? By then the computer will probably just be able to suck the thoughts from our heads. Look out computer - you really don't want to know what I've got going on in here.

Until next time, PHAT friends ... oh, do me a favor - eat something worthwhile for me. (The bigger you are the smaller I look!)