Bread….Warm Buttery Bread


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Growing up, I was never allowed to touch the bread at restaurants. You know the delicious hot bread that comes with butter at the beginning of most meals? It’s the bread that comes to the table, when you’re at your hungriest. As a child…well from eight years old, until today, I was always taught that bread was the enemy, and even looking at it would make me gain weight. I would watch with envy, and with drool coming out of my mouth , while my petite brother (sorry D) would chomp away at the tasty bread…with butter. Even before it hit the table, Ronnie Ginger would give me the eyes, making me aware that she was watching me, and that bread was MY enemy. When I became older and started going to restaurants with friends, I began to eat the free bread because no one was watching or judging. Little did I know that with each bite, I’d be blowing up a little more each time. On Donald’s first encounter with Ronnie Ginger, when he was just an innocent little boyfriend, taking his new girlfriend on dates, she nicely warned him that when he takes me out to restaurants, that I was not permitted, under any circumstances to eat the bread. She said this because I loved it so much…so she thought! Just to be clear, I don’t even like bread, I find bread to be dry, and boring and really just a waste of space. If I’m going to eat bread, I’m going to make it worth it- like a grilled cheese or French toast, but just plain bread doesn’t do it for me. The reason I became so aggressive as a child when I was refused the free bread at the table, was only because I was never allowed to have it. People always want what they can’t have, right? (I wasn’t allowed a lot of things apparently).

The thing with me and bread though, is that, bread is free, and it comes with most meals in America, and some parts of Canada. If it’s free, I like it, because I like good value. On the other hand, the whole reason why we’re going to a restaurant is because we’re hungry. If the polite waiter asks if I would like some free hot bread, and I’m hungry, and he places it right in front of me-then I’ll have a bite. I’m not going to eat an entire freaking basket of bread… this is because

1) I’m not an animal

and

2) I physically can’t keep in an entire load of bread

The moral of the story is, don’t deprive yourself. If you deprive yourself for your entire life, then one day you’ll eat an entire basket of bread, and wake up 50 pounds heavier.

Go ahead, have a bite, just a little bite.

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To My Grandma


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On November 5th 2014,  I suffered a great loss. My wonderful, amazing, beautiful grandmother passed away. My grandmother,  was my best friend, and someone who I spoke to everyday. Being the oldest grandchild, I knew I was lucky to have both my grandparents at 26, so I made sure to speak to her everyday, sometimes even twice a day. I knew that I wouldn’t have them forever, so I made sure to speak to them as much as I could. She would never let me speak to my grandfather, because she wanted me all to herself. My Grammy made it a point to judge, criticize, and comment when necessary, and she really had no filter; but I loved every moment of it! It feels so weird not to be able to call her anymore, this is the longest we’ve gone without speaking.

In the end, my grammy had a very weak heart, and she was in so much pain, but was too proud to say anything. Grammy was such a fighter and really wanted to live forever. Her heart was too weak and was not able to handle all the love she had for all her kids, grandkids and her soulmate- my Papakins!

Aside from Donald, and Mommy Ginger, my Grammy was the one person who really helped me stay on track with my weight loss and who pushed me to succeed. She knew as well as anyone, that my biggest fight was to get under 200 pounds. This is something that  I have been struggling with for the last 15 years of my life. For the last 6 months I have bounced near ONEDERLAND, but was never able to actually make it. My weight loss for the last two months has gone from 215.3 to 205.7 to 202.4 to 201.3 to 200.6 to 200.3. On the morning of November 5 2014, the day my grandma left us, I suffered not only one great loss, but two.  I got on the scale, because I felt a change within myself… to my surprise, the scale had shown me something I haven’t seen in a decade and a half… a ONE, on the scale. I got on and weighed 199.2….WITH CLOTHES! This may be so little to most people, this is something extremely huge for me, and is such a milestone in my life.

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While I know my Grammy is no longer with us in person, she is definitely with me in spirit. I don’t think I could have ever done this without her. I think that was her way of telling me that she is still here and watching over me. I never believed in that kind of stuff, but to me, it doesn’t seem like a coincidence.

Grandma, wherever you are, know that I love you, and I think about you everyday. Thank you for helping me succeed, and making me who I am today. I couldn’t have done it without you. I will never stop thinking about you, and I thank you for watching over us.

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First Dates: How I Developed My Pet Name


First dates are both interesting and intimidating. You really need to make a good impression the first time you’re out with a complete stranger. First dates are extremely frightening, especially if you’re going for dinner to a fancy restaurant with a stranger you hardly know. Luckily, I haven’t had to worry about any first dates in a long time, but the last time I went on one, it was quite special.

Let’s just say, Donald has been calling me “Miss I’ll Just Have A Salad Please” since our first date together, which was just over three and a half years ago. Now, there are many reasons why he gave me this nickname. Firstly, on our first date, he took me to a super nice restaurant, one that I would normally only be able to afford while on a Groupon. Let’s just start off by saying, I loved bread and butter. This warm, delicious, smoking bread came to the table with soft butter, and all I wanted to do was shove my face in it and devour it all. I know that first dates really are the first impression, so I didn’t want to come off as a ravenous animal who has never seen bread before. I watched Donald eat the bread, and the while salivating watching him with each bite he took. When it came time to ordering the meal, I undoubtedly did just have a salad. A warm spinach salad to be exact… BARF! What the hell was I thinking? Obviously I didn’t want to go on a date with this guy and be like “Oh hey, I’ll have a AAA Angus Steak with mashed potatoes, and extra melted cheese on top, Oh, and of course a shrimp cocktail to start”. Although, it really was what I wanted, I couldn’t afford an $80 meal, and didn’t want him to think that I was a fat cow. I ate only half of my warm spinach salad, while getting more and more squeamish with each bite. I watched him eat his sausage pasta and was jealous that I made the wrong choice. (Is it normal that I remember what he ate? I must have been starving myself) As soon as I got home, I made myself a nice box of Kraft Dinner, because I was starving… (please keep in mind this was pre-surgery). Thinking back, I wasn’t the skinniest of girls, why would a fat girl go to a nice restaurant and order a warm spinach salad? Obviously he knew the kind of food I was into.. I mean after all, he isn’t stupid! I guess I also ordered the warm leaves because what if he didn’t like me, and walked out, and made up some story like he had to go take his blood sugar and left me with the bill? I had to order the cheapest thing on the menu; especially after he ordered BOTTLED WATER! Who orders bottled water? Not that I’m cheap or anything, actually I am- but tap water is just fine with me and I don’t feel poor asking for it! I know it’s not nice to assume that he was paying for the meal, I guess I’m just old fashioned like that.

Anyway, two months later, or some time after that, he finally asked me if I wanted to be his official girlfriend. I said yes, and then decided it was alright to eat normally. Once he saw me scarf down my first steak, I adopted the name “Miss I’ll Just Have A Salad Please” I told you he was smart!

Now, it’s okay to eat normal in front of each other. With three and a half years of dating, comes comfort. We still haven’t gotten comfortable with going to the bathroom with the door open, but we’re taking baby steps!

Fat People Don’t Love All Food


Most ordinary people who don’t know much about anything would think that all fat people like all foods, and that when it comes to overweight people and dietary restrictions, there are none. Well I’m here to tell you, that as an average overweight person, I do not like all foods. My list of foods that I like is long, but I’ll try to keep it to a minimum.

Cheese:

Cheese is probably the most amazing gift from the cow gods. I’m pretty sure from what I’ve been told, that cheese is just rotten milk, but it tastes delicious. Now, while cheese may be yummy, I’m very particular about them. I know, how weird!… A fat person is particular about a type of food they like? I like all hard cheeses, as long as they’re not stinky. Really old cheddar and smoked gouda are my favorite. My mom used to buy smoked gouda when we were kids. It was a reward to get it, and I’d really have to work hard to get a piece; just one. That was until, I learned where the cheese drawer was and started eating an entire pack of cheese like a bag of chips. After Ronnie Ginger, my loving mother found out that I knew where the cheese stash was, it was over. The good expensive cheese stopped entering the house from that day. I was stuck with that “light” Kraft “cheese”… or should I say, Kraft plastic? Also, melted cheeses are so good. Like in a lasagna, when the mozzarella becomes ooey gooey… that’s pretty good. On to what I don’t like in the cheese category- I’m not one for stinky soft cheeses, or soft cheese in general. If I ever smelled a donkeys butt hole, I’d assume it smells like Blue Cheese, that stuff smells gross and why anybody would want to eat food the color of the rainbow really boggles my mind. I know it’s really in right now to like Brie and that Camembert stuff, but I just can’t. The smell reminds me of my locker in high school and it just brings back terrible memories for me.

Meat:

I love meat. Red meat. I like my meat rare. Obviously I’m not into eating my meatballs rare, but I totally adore some nice fancy meat once in a while. (When I say I like it, I like it, but I can only have about four bites until my stomach can’t take it anymore) Anyway, being Jewish, at most of our family holiday events, there’s always CHOPPED LIVER. I hate it! I can’t stand the sight of it, the smell of it, anything about it. To me it just looks like a bowl of mushed up poop and smells like it too. Sometimes Donald thinks it’s funny to breathe on me after he eats it. It’s an instant appetite decreaser for me! Also, ham and I don’t get along that great. I’m not sure if this fits in to the meat category, but whatever. I always loved Charlottes Web, and the thought of eating a sweet little pig really haunts my dreams… I do like bacon though. I swear I’m not a hypocrite.

Breads & Carbs:

Ever since I had my gallbladder surgery, for some reason, I can’t eat certain bread anymore. It’s like the surgeon gave me the gift of not being able to tolerate the things that are bad for me! Baguette is buttery goodness, but I have since had to say goodbye to it, along with the healthy flax seed bread, and any type of sandwich bread. For some reason though, croissants go down just fine; which for me I find unfortunate. Buuuut fortunately for me, I can only have 1/4 of it until I’m full. Those buttery delights are also murderous tasty treats. I’m not really one for chips. I find that they’re messy, and since I stain a lot of my clothes, I don’t find it worth it to eat chips unless I have a Tide-To-Go handy! Pasta and me no longer get along. Which, to be honest, doesn’t really bother me all that much, because it’s just a space waster in my stomach and I only made pasta when I was lazy.

Candies:

I LOVE CANDIES! I LOVE HALLOWEEN. I LOVE THE DAY AFTER HALLOWEEN WHEN EVERYTHING IS HALF PRICE. Candy doesn’t like me though. The second I eat a piece of candy, it goes straight to my triple chin and I’m just a sweaty hot mess. I made a promise to myself that I would not have a single candy before my birthday. So far, I’ve broken that promise twice. However, on a more positive note, I’m starting again tonight. I usually only like orange flavored candy, and mostly anything citrusy, or chocolatey. I hate black licorice, and cherry flavored snacks. But that’s about it!

Until then, I’ll keep working on the list of foods I don’t like!

I Feel Pretty


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I figured something out today, and again, it’s going to sound mucho cocky. I came to the realization that everything about me is amazing. I got the “fat genes” because I had everything else going for me. I had the looks, the personality, the humor,  the brains, and the whatever else is amazing that most people don’t get. I got the fat because I couldn’t have everything, right? Who would want to be friends with someone who had absolutely everything going for them? I sure as hell wouldn’t.

Along with the fat, came the lack of confidence. So I was lacking two things that the other kids already had. But whatever. I feel great now, and I’m so happy with  how far I’ve come.

On the confidence note, this morning I went to the gym, it was 7:00 am. (What the hell was I thinking? Had I absolutely lost my mind? Well, I lost that years ago, but whatevs, right?) Anyway, so even though it’s 7:00 am, I should still have even the tiniest bit of energy in my oh-so-large body, I look over at myself in the mirror at my sexy Zumba dance moves, and then look over to Bubby Yetta on my right. This bubby was moving in all sorts of ways imaginable, while I’m standing there on the side looking like a seizing squirrel doing the funky chicken. I don’t like to dance like a normal person because I’m always afraid that my belly rolls are going to pop out of my shirt and I’m actually going to look like something died in pants and I’m just moving in all sorts of stupid ways looking like a moron. Anyway, I immediately get this sudden burst of energy, after seeing this bubby. Well, it wasn’t exactly a burst of energy, it was more of an embarrassment thing, because I want to be dancing better than a 93 year old lady. But I shouldn’t hate, GO YETTA!

Anyway, my hard work paid off and I need a leg massage. Any takers?

I Was NOT Born To Dance


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Being a hefty kid, I never really liked to do anything… I was lazier than lazy, if there is such a thing. I didn’t like sports, or to move in any funky ways because I was clumsy in everything I did. I would walk into walls, trip on my feet, look aimlessly into space and ram into strangers everywhere I turned. Anyway, since I was getting chubbier by the day, when I was ten I guess, my mom thought it would be a good idea to enroll me in a dancing class with Rhoda-Clarice and Fanny Wood. Rhoda and Fanny were able to move in all fantastic ways while I would take just one step and hit someone in the face with my giant arms. My presence was always so large. Maybe it was because I was standing in between my two friends, and I was still one foot taller than them– combined. It wasn’t fair. I did not realize my own size and to this day, I can’t dance. Turns out dance class didn’t turn out well for me, as when they gave the diplomas, they put everyone ahead, and instead of holding me back a grade of dancers, they put me with the 5-6 year olds. Maybe that’s why I have no confidence with my dancing?

I went to Zumba last night, and Helga was in my brain thinking of excuses not to go to class. Marg kept asking me if everything was ok. I wish she wouldn’t have, because then I wouldn’t have had time to think of an excuse to get me out of class. HOWEVER, I finished the entire class, and I felt so good! I didn’t even go home and eat a cheeseburger, I ate healthy.

Sometimes I wish Beyoncé would come over and teach me how to dance like her. Damn that girl can moooooove.

A Note To Chubby Girls


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Dear Chubby Plump Girls,

Listen to my wise words. Don’t listen to anyone that tells you that your face is so beautiful, don’t let the bullying skinny girls get to you, don’t let your fears get in the way of anything. I wasted twenty four years of my life being sad, and feeling like I was worthless. I am so happy right now and I am in the greatest place. I have never been more in love with myself, and I don’t have anyone to thank but myself, and Dr. McDreamy, well because, you know.

I had dinner last night with a lovely young girl who inspires me so much. She has so much confidence and doesn’t care what other people think. She puts herself above the skinny b!@#$ and she’s the cool and fun one that everyone wants to be friends with. When I was that same age, I couldn’t believe the awkward mess I was. I would walk around with my head down and look like a loser, or start laughing like a hyena just to get some attention (that just made it worse though, because then I would attract attention to my large self). It’s also so nice to see how much love surrounds this amazing girl, I wish I had that kind of support growing up.  Jemima, you will accomplish great things, I love the way you love yourself, and I am so jealous of your level of confidence!

Confidence doesn’t come easy, just as you start losing weight. It’s something you need to learn and it’s hard to love something you’ve hated for 24 years. It’s a slow process, but I’m loving it every step of the way.

Love Always,

Just the obese girl

(I’m no longer morbidly obese, just regular obese, I dropped out of the morbid category this week. GO ME!)