I Could Have Been Honey Moo Moo



When I was a child, I was the most beautiful thing in the world. I sometimes wonder why my mom didn’t put me in beauty pageants like Honey Boo Boo Child, or just put me in modeling? Maybe I would have stayed thin, if I was a model. People always told her that I was beautiful; not just a pretty face. Mama, why didn’t you listen to nice strangers?

Sometimes I think what life would have been like had I been born skinny and not developed a weight problem. Pretty boring if you ask me. At least now I have a story to tell, and I can laugh at myself without getting depressed about it. I guess being fat was kind of like, my story, and it taught me a lot. It taught me not to eat after nine, it taught me how to stand up to bullies, and it taught me how to love me for me. I guess in a way I appreciate where I came from and how much I’ve accomplished.

Part of me can still wish I would have been in modeling though. I would have loved to dress in expensive clothing and drive around in a convertible all year and live in California. Until then, I will continue on dressing in Wal-Mart brand clothing (not really, but y’noh) and drive around on the metro around the city.

Mr. Vending Machine

Dear Vending Machine Man,

I know I am pretty, and I know that you think that I am quite perfect for you. However, not only do I have a boyfriend, I am also extremely fat. While I sincerely appreciate you trying to feed me treats whenever you visit work, I believe it would be best if you would refrain from doing so in the future. My bootylicious belly cannot take one more bag of Doritos or another Cookies & Cream bar.

The gesture is appreciated. Let’s do drinks sometime soon. You can get a drink, I’ll get a glass of water. Well maybe we will do that separately but you know what I mean.


5 Points For Me!



I’m beginning to enjoy the little things in life. No, not Cadbury Mini Eggs, or Kinder Surprises, but little things like:

1) Looking down, and being able to see my entire foot. I have been so used to looking down and just seeing a mountain of jluge just staring back at me. I can totally tell when I need a pedicure now. I should go visit Mindy Nail, I’m due.

2) Being able to walk up a flight of stairs and not sound like a wheezing orchestra. It’s really nice now, that after walking up a flight of stairs, I’m still as silent as when I started on the first step.

Some other big accomplishments of mine are not ripping through, or breaking heels after a night out. Also, not going for the ice cream. The ice cream is killer. Ice cream just looks at me with devil eyes; especially when there’s a good sale on it. Anyway, I haven’t been near ice cream in the longest time, and to be honest, I don’t really miss it. I’ve kind of like switched it up a bit. I freeze a yogurt, blend it in the baby blender and then sprinkle chocolate chips on it. Better than ice cream. Speaking of ice cream, maybe by not having all that icy goodness, I’ve actually accomplished something BIG. Ever since my tummy tire decided to expand, I’ve always worn my pants under my jluge. For the first time in perhaps ever, my pants actually go above the jludge. Like right where the belly button should go. Like right where all the normal people and mannequins wear their pants. That’s right, I’m dressing like a mannequin now. I may not look like one yet, but someday, I know I’ll get pretty damn close.

My biggest accomplishment though, is that I’ve actually learned to tell myself when to stop. At the beginning, I would get upset when I was surrounded by food that I wasn’t allowed to eat, or that I couldn’t eat. It was hard to see everyone around me eat whatever they wanted. I’d ask myself time and time again why I decided to do this surgery, and then suddenly one day it clicked, and it all made sense. Now, when I’m full, I will stop. No matter how delicious that piece of salmon sashimi looks, it doesn’t look as good as what a healthy me may look like. I’ve learned to not eat to the point where I get sick, and I’ve also learned not to let what other people say get to me.

On that note, people are entitled to form what ever kind of image or idea they want about me. I would too. I mean, this blog has my deepest and darkest and sickest, twisted secrets, so why wouldn’t people have something to talk about? They can think whatever they want. At the end of the day, I know my limits, I know how to live my new way of life. I know what I’m doing. When you have your stomach surgically removed, then come back to me, and tell me how easy it is. I’m not saying I’m innocent, and I’m not saying I was perfect. No one is perfect, and of course I made mistakes. I am on track, and will stay there. I am happy, and no one, and nothing can bring me down.




Today I got my first “You look AH-MAAZING” and let me tell you… it felt AH-MAAZING! That’s all I really wanted to share today.

That, and the fact that I’m comfortable wearing shorter dresses.

I am also more comfortable being in awkward situations

I also like to look in the mirror.

I like to get pretty and do my hair.

I feel good about me.

Actually, I feel AH-MAAZING

Chew With Your Mouth Closed



I have problems. Probably more than most people do. But I can admit it. I dislike a lot of things, and I dislike a lot of people. When something bothers me, I will usually not say anything, but when it comes to this one particular thing, I just lose it.

This one thing that bothers me more than mice in my house, is people who chew with their mouths open. This trait is disgusting and sometimes makes me want to strangle people, stick my fingers down their throat, and remove the food. People who chew like disgusting cows should have no privilege  of eating crunchy, or noisy food. If you were raised by wolves, and plan on chewing with your mouth open, I suggest that instead of masticating this like a pig, you stick your filet Mignon leftovers, and crackers  in the blender, and suck it out of a straw. How do people even learn such disgusting qualities?

Say a little boy named Mervin has a problem closing his mouth when he eats. You would think that if everyone around him is putting headphones on, and blocks their ears, and runs away from him in the schoolyard, whenever he takes out his breakfast,lunch and snack, he would realize that perhaps he has a chewing problem. It’s not like Mervin has abnormally large cheeks or anything. It’s not like he’s missing teeth. He is just an ordinary individual who does not have manners.  Even a giraffe missing half their teeth can eat better than him. Maybe Mervin and his classmates should take a group field trip to the zoo so the baby llama can teach the class how to eat properly.

Also, gum chewing. Why can’t anyone just close their mouth when they chew gum. Is it like your teeth are on a mission to kill the gum? Gum is not a living thing. Close your mouth, enjoy the taste, swish it around. Do not crack, pop, chew, breathe loudly. I must sound crazy, or just no one has seen Princess Diaries and knows how to act with proper etiquette?

To sum this up, nobody wants to hear what you’re eating or chewing. When you eat, your mouth is supposed to be closed. If you feel like you cannot close your mouth, I suggest, you walk your little tush over to a public washroom, close the door to a stall and eat your lunch in there. Nobody likes the sound of food mushing around inside someones mouth. No one. I have a copy of the Princess Diaries if anyone would like some reminders on how to eat. You are not a barn yard animal, you are a human- act like it!

So, the moral of the story is, there is no moral. Just close your mouth.

Mouse In The House



Last night I really learned my lesson, when it comes to snacking that is. I recently moved into an apartment building, all by myself. Anyway, last night I’m sitting in bed, watching some housewives hate on each other, when I decide at 11:15 pm that I would like a light snack. I walk to the kitchen, open the lights, and notice two disgusting creatures hanging out in front of my microwave.

These little creatures are disgusting, creepy rodents, who eat my windex and makes holes in my wires. I immediately shriek at the top of my lungs as if I had just witnessed a murder. Let’s call them Moe, and Lester. Moe had dissapeared the second I screamed, and Lester was still there after the two second event had occurred. This disgusting rodent looks me in the eye, makes some disgusting mouse noise, and then decides to take off under my microwave. Standing there in awe, and wondering what he’s doing under my microwave, I witness this little pest slide down my wire, and slide right into my fridge, like he was that little sucker Stuart Little.

Not knowing what to do, I do what I’m best at. Start crying. Like Lester is going to know that he really upset me or something. I called Ronnie, she was sleeping. I called Donald, he was sleeping, and called up Margaret so have me stay on her couch. While I sincerely appreciated the gesture, I figured I did not want to leave my room in case that little rat decided to come back and haunt me and my freshly painted toes. I spent the entire night, wrapped in a blanket, like a California roll, with the lights on, and music blaring. I googled what scares mice, and I found that they hate loud noise, and lights. Google is my friend.

The moral of this way too long story, was that, snacking should never be done after 9:00 pm. I should have never gone to the fridge to go for my snack. However, probably best that I did. I guess I have that little runt mouse to thank after all.

Diet Deliciousness

Today marks exactly six months since I gave up my severe addiction. I still carry many more addictions, but I was addicted to a delicious bubbly drink. Yes, as sick as it is to say, I was obsessed to Diet Pepsi. Not Diet Coke, because that stuff tastes like vomit and makes your teeth feel like they’re going to rot, but the real Pepsi stuff. And also, not the regular Pepsi. I preferred the taste of diet. After surgery, soda is a big no no, because the carbonated beverages stretch out the stomach, making the surgery completely useless in the end. If for some miraculous reason I was still allowed to drink it, I probably would. But I’m better off without it.

Diet Pepsi had the perfect amount of bubbles to taste ratio. It has a tangy yet sweet taste. It makes you burp when you’re feeling full. Pepsi is especially delicious when it’s on sale at the grocery store for $0.88 a bottle. I specifically remember this one time where there was a huge sale on DP, fat me ran to every single grocery store, and did rain checks, and bought the most that I was allowed. The cashier gave me a dirty look, and I was all like “Girl, yes, this is all for me, do you have a problem with that?”. I should have taken that face as a sign because I should not have had all that soft drink. That shit aint soft. I put on a good five pounds just from drinking it. DP always gave me the best burp at the best time, leaving me with more room in my deflated football sized stomach to eat more. It has crossed my mind to have a little sip here and there. I won’t lie and say I haven’t done it. I have. I mostly just smell it when other people order it- but just so I can smell the bubbles and then choke once they get stuck up my nose.


I’m so happy that I have cured that addiction.

I still want just one sip though.