Just Say No To Cake, or Just 6 Bites!


Yesterday was my birthday, and the rest of the week is birthday week. In honor of birthday week, I gave myself the opportunity to go nuts. Well not really, because I didn’t eat the entire piece of cake. I guess I’m starting to see how this whole smaller stomach thing is working. I’ve trained myself to not finish the last bite, and to not eat until I want to throw up and die. My mom, for the first time ever, encouraged me to eat cake. She bought me my most favorite ice cream cake in the world. Mint Chocolate Chip. Just thinking about it kind of makes me want some more. I tasted it, had a couple of bites, and then was able to tell myself when to stop. I think that was my biggest accomplishment, and best birthday present to myself. Today at work, we had cake again for me, because I’m really special and people like to spoil me. I had Carrot Caramel Cheesecake. This cake is so delicious it needs its own blog post, but I won’t do that, because it’s an extremely fat thing of me to do. Anyway, this cake was the perfect combination of cheesecake and carrot cake. I ate six little bites. I savored each bite, and then I gave the rest of my leftovers to someone who was 2 pounds soaking wet and needed it more than I did.

I’m expecting candles in at least one meal per day until Sunday, considering this is birthday week. So far, I have accomplished a lot by not finishing the cake. It’s never the last bite, and at the end of the day, who needs an entire piece of cake– my fat bum sure doesn’t!

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5 Points For Me!


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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.

 

 

A Note To Mike Jeffies, You Nasty Skinny Slimebucket


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So I was recently stumbling through the internet, because sometimes I get bored of making myself laugh. So I’m clicking, and clacking, and then all of a sudden, Facebook goes crazy and all I hear is some crazy talk from some crazy old dude from Abercrombie & Fitch. Fridays posts are usually “A Note To Skinny Girls”. I’m going to change it up a little, and make this one “A Note To Mike Jeffries, You Nasty Skinny Slimebucket”

Before I go any further, I just need to say one thing to all girls and boys out there- Fat girls/boys, Skinny Girls/Boys, “Normal Girls/Boys”, Happy Girls/Boys, do not listen to this man. He does not deserve a voice, and he should not get any attention for his cruel actions. This is the kind of person that will try to tear you down to make you feel better about yourself. This man is cruel, and even and has a monstrous personality. We are better than this individual.

So this ugly Abercrombie executive dude says moronic things during this interviews and makes this dumb statement about “failing companies”: “Those companies that are in trouble are trying to target everybody: young, old, fat, skinny. But then you become totally vanilla. You don’t alienate anybody, but you don’t excite anybody, either.” Excuse me sir, but correct me if I’m wrong. These companies “that are in trouble” are going to make ten times more sales than you ever will, especially after this dumb little stunt of yours. The oogly eyed old fart goes on to say “Candidly, we go after the cool kids. We go after the attractive all-American kid with a great attitude and a lot of friends. A lot of people don’t belong [in our clothes], and they can’t belong”.Just a little fun fact for you Mr. Jeffries, my entire life I have struggled to find out who I was, and struggled with weight loss. I have tried so hard to be that cool kid, I have tried so hard to be the attractive all-American (Canadian) kid. You my friend, are a bully. A bully is an individual who uses strength or power to harm or intimidate those who are weaker. I assume no one has ever called you out on your looks? Lucky guy! You have done nothing to make your brand stand out, and  To be quite honest, I’m not sure how you’re one to judge. Have you taken a look in the mirror lately? If you want to go after peoples looks, then I guess it’s my turn to bash you. However, due to the fact that I am a stronger person, and I am a better person, and that I have respect, I won’t stoop down to your level. If you really mean it when you say “I don’t want our core customers to see people who aren’t as hot as them wearing our clothing.” , then maybe you should consider only making your clothes from sizes XXS-S. Normal people such as myself, shouldn’t be wearing your clothes then Mister.

This blog is my place to be open and honest about my weight loss. Yes, I may make fun of a skinny bitch here and there, but it’s all in good fun. This weight loss is for my health, and for disgusting individuals, such as you Mr. Mike Jeffries, you should be ashamed of yourself. Us “fat people” have feelings too. You are a discriminating piece of work and I curse the day you were born (I always wanted to say that). Your company had a good thing going, I really like the perfume, but I guess since I’m fat I shouldn’t be smelling like a skinny All-American kid, right? I am proud of myself, and where I have come. I am proud to weigh over 200 pounds, and I am proud to call myself pretty. I don’t need to shop at some high end, crappy quality store with prostitute looking models.

I wish you nothing but success on your future endeavors. Hey, just one question, what size do you take, jerk?

No Pain, No Gain (Well, Hopefully No Weight Gain)


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So, I know I said I was all for going to the gym. However, the fact that my legs feel like I got attacked by an obese baby elephant, isn’t exactly making me want to go to the gym anymore. I get up from my desk at work looking like I have a bowling ball shoved up my butt and I am constantly getting stares. It’s cool, while you were sitting on your couch watching TV, I was out getting my ass kicked in Crossfit. Anyway, I decided that I will not go to the gym tonight. I physically cannot move, no, like actually. I cannot move. I need to be wheeled around, because otherwise my spaghetti legs will give out on me and I will be on the floor within seconds.  I really don’t want to injure myself so that I won’t go to the gym for another month after. I’m being proactive; let’s just go with that.

As much as I hate this pain, and as much as I want to slice my legs off myself, I know that in the end, I will have hotter legs than anyone else out there, and I ultimately don’t want to get rid of them, because that’s always been the one “skinny” thing about me. This excruciating pain is magnificent and I never thought I would say this, but I kind of LOVE it. I just keep thinking back to what I did. I did those gym classes that you see those crazy fit weight lifters doing on YouTube, I am so proud of myself. Fat Hillary would have never done anything like that. Well, she would have watched the YouTube videos while eating a bag of chips, but that’s about it.

I’m contemplating putting an ad on Craigslist right now for someone to come over and rub my thighs.

Tanning Is Slimming


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Now that Hefty Helga has sadly passed on, there is officially nothing in my way stopping me from losing weight. The scale has been at the same place for the last three weeks, and then finally yesterday, when I got on the scale before my scheduled date, it had finally moved down two pounds. I’ll take it, and it’s better than going up two pounds.

I figure that summer is a great time for me to really put my mind to this weight loss again, and actually stick to it. I mean, not only because I’ll be tan, and we all know dark is slimming, but because I’ll have a lot more time to sit outside to tan, than to sit inside and eat snacks all day. Speaking of snacks, snacks are killer. I could just eat snacks all day. Snacks are delicious. Even the word snack sounds delicious, snack, snack snack. I sound hungry, but really I’m full. I just wish sometimes I could occupy myself with other thoughts instead of wondering when my next snack will be.

I haven’t been in a bathing suit since I was at my fattest last year. Well, I just lied. I was in a bathing suit last night. Around my apartment. Alone. Dancing to some Island beats. Just strutting by myself, seeing how I liked it. Genius didn’t seem to think I looked that bad, because he just stared at me panting, and didn’t even bark at the sight of me in swimwear.  It didn’t look that great, however looked better than last year. I wasn’t popping out of all the seams and not going to lie, I actually felt pretty damn good. (Would have looked better with a tan though)

Anyway, dark is slimming, better get back out there in the sun.

Helga, Helga, Go Away!


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It’s time for Helga to go away and to never come back. Her funeral will be held tomorrow morning at 9:00 am. RIP big girl.

Helga is driving me up the wall and all she wants to do is to sabotage my life. I swear, if she bugs me one more time to walk to the kitchen, I’m going to slap the fat out of her. People look at me in public because I’m always yelling at her; maybe I shouldn’t have stopped my crazy pills. But that’s a discussion for another day.

It’s not that I’m hungry, or that I’m bored. I really don’t know what it is. Helga tells me to eat, so I do. I still sometimes forget that I was surgified, and Doctor removed my stomach. Sometimes I wish I would just have more control. It’s so hard to just wake up one morning and just give up your love for food. That just doesn’t happen in the real world. I am so envious of all these healthy fit people who post their Instagram and Pinterest pictures about how healthy they are, and look at their abs. Good for you, but b!@#, I’m jealous. I know I’ve lost over 40 pounds, but I’ve been at the same place for almost three weeks, and can’t seem to get out of that evil number that haunts my dreams. I want to stand up to Helga and tell her to eff off because she does nothing for me, but keep me in the same sad fat place I’ve been for a long time.

I just wish I could break that evil number and just get on with my life. Helga, you are not wanted. Let me do this on my own.

On A More Serious Note


I’ve taken this whole “I have a smaller stomach” thing way too lightly these last few days. I figure if I have a small stomach, I won’t need to eat as much, therefore I can eat whatever I want. I understand that weight fluctuates over the course of a week, and it’s majorly unhealthy to weigh myself everyday, however when I woke up this morning and saw that I had gained two pounds overnight, I couldn’t help but hate myself.

After surgery, doctors and nutritionists give post op patients a list of foods they can and cannot eat. We are also given information to eat on portions, and examples on what to eat for meals. If I’m not honest with the world, then I can’t be honest with myself. I have taken bites here and there of foods that I have wanted. I have had an extra three or four bites when I shouldn’t have. From this point on, I never want to see the scale go up again. I can do this. I didn’t go this far just to fail again!

Not to make any excuses, like fat people are good at, but I have been to the gym 5 times in the last 7 days, and I’m so f!@ing proud of myself! Maybe it’s muscle weighing more than fat? NO. It’s just fat being fat.

I promise MYSELF that I will stay on track. It’s only been two months. I should not be off track already.