Chronically Ironic

·Does This Ass Make My Ass Look Fat?

Look, I have never claimed to be a “tiny” girl or even a “normal-sized” girl.  Evidently somewhere along the last 10 years, I became a full-fledged “plus-size woman.”  Yeah, it was a surprise.  It’s not like I just woke up and was 50 pounds heavier than I was in college, it happened gradually - as all good weight gain does.  However,  I guess I am in the majority now, so I should feel comfortable. 

Hmph.  Comfort is always relative.  I feel extremely comfortable in my pj’s on the couch eating multiple slices of pizza.  I feel uncomfortable when I have to put ANY ACTUAL CLOTHES ON.  Or, God forbid, go purchase any.  Plus-size clothes have come a long way, but why can’t we ever find any good pants?  Is it my ass? Damn. 

My boyfriend and I took the dog for a walk last night and my boyfriend is walking behind me, going, “mmm, onion booty.”  I don’t know what the fuck that means, but I find the description inaccurate - unless it refers to the fact that you could peel back 27 layers of fat and then finally find an ass.  I think some better descriptions would be “mmm, cottage-cheese-covered-bowling-ball booty” or “mmm, don’t-go-out-in-public booty.”  There is no “mmm” about it for me, it’s more of an “ugggh.”

Gotta give it to my girls The Glamazons, though.  I never ever ever ever as a rule watch crap shows like America’s Next (blank!) or Top (blank!) or So You Think You Can (blank!)…ok, with three exceptions.  Those exceptions are as follows:

• Last Comic Standing
• Hell’s Kitchen
• America’s Got Talent

Why those three?  I will tell you.  Last Comic Standing just because we started watching it the very first season.  I will say, my opinion of the “judging” in this show has gone downhill.  They have picked some seriously unfunny people, while passing up awesome people like Sean Rouse, etc.  I keep watching, even if it is starting to suck.  Hell’s Kitchen I watch purely for Gordon Ramsay.  He is an awesome chef.  He is hot hot hot, in a crazy British, rugged sense (as if those two things can co-exist.)  He treats people in ways I can only dream about - that is, really really badly.  Unfortunately, the majority of the contestants are lame.  I swear, if that stupid nanny Bonnie would have won last night, I would have thrown my KitchenAid Professional right through the damn TV.  I can’t throw very far though.  Plus, that thing’s heavy.  And, as you probably guessed, I don’t fucking work out.  My workout is laundry and sandwiches.

The last show of choice/non-choice/addiction is America’s Got Talent.  As usual, and as we did with Hell’s Kitchen, America steals a great show from Britain and ups the fights and the drama by about 470%.  This does not please me.  So fucking theatrical, with the counting down and the giant pause before a commercial.  Come on.  We all have dvr’s now anyway.  We will be skipping all the commercials, trust me.  Just GET TO THE FREAKING WINNER/LOSER!!!!  Arrrgggh.  I digress.  I came upon America’s Got Talent when they ran a marathon one Saturday, and of course, there was nothing better to do.  I know this has been a long way around to get to this point - The Glamazons.  These adorable girls turn up on this show, they are all a little more “plus” than I am, and damn if they didn’t get out there on that stage in corsets and fancy hose - and I will also be damned if that audience didn’t go crazy for them.  It was a great day for all of us women that look at ourselves every day in the mirror and say, “Holy shit.  My hips are wider than the mirror.”  Solution:  Buy a bigger mirror.  Cake is good, people.  So’s Arby’s.  Fuck you, Skinny Girls!  And for all the skinny girls that are my friends, you know I’m just saying it because I’m jealous.  I’ll be jealous the entire time I am eating my way through a plate of homemade lasagna that I made from a Gordon Ramsay cookbook.  You sit there and drink your water and look hot.  Meanwhile, I’m gonna go pick up one of those cute Yankees at the pizza place and make him cover me in alfredo sauce.  Honey, if you’re reading this, not really.  

Meanwhile I’m working on my tan.  I am thinking being tan will draw attention away from the fatness.  I was also contemplating new hair.  Because ya know, hair always has that thinning effect.  God forbid I go to a Weight Watchers meeting.  Why, when you can tally up all your shitty points online!?!  you don’t even have to go out of the house!!!  HUZZAH!  You know, back in the day, plump was pretty.  Instead of being “plus-size,” call us fucking Renaissance.  Because the Renaissance was cool and it sounds a lot nicer.  ”Plus-size” sounds like a term one would use for growing those freaky oversized vegetables.  And if there’s one thing I won’t be compared to, it’s a giant-hybrid-crazyass vegetable.  On the other hand, you could call me “Booty-esque” or even “Venus” - unimaginative, I know, but who wouldn’t like that? 

And as for the media, once again and as always, especially when it comes to making women try to feel good about themselves at ANY size or ANY age - minus Jon Stewart, of course - fuck ALL y’all. 

Why Girls Cry