Gluttony. It is a trait that is not attractive, not ladylike, not morally sound. And I'm pretty sure it is a sin, depending on how you look at it. The holidays have come and gone. We have gorged ourselves with Christmas fanfare in the form of parties, treat bags, cookie exchanges, alcohol consumption, socializing, over shopping, over wrapping, over giving, and most of all, over eating. I plead guilty on all counts. What will my sentencing entail???
Every year I try as I may to rebuke the temptations like a born-again Christian denounces the booze, hookers, and pills and replaces the addictions with a love for Jesus, I fail miserably. I have hosted a big party and attended a few, all of which had more tables laden with more fattening foods than a National Mayonnaise Festival. Good Christ there was some yummy shit. And then there are the drinks. It adds up like a really bad statistics equation that makes no fucking sense but causes even your fat pants to give you camel toe. That sucks.
I read all these do-gooder athletic coaches quotes, "Don't have too much to drink!" or "Add some soda water to your glass of wine and it will last longer and keep you hydrated!" or "Munch on those carrot sticks and avoid the dips!" Excuse me but I do not know what planet these bitches live on. Want me to do walking lunges around the buffet table, too? Are they drugged to keep this willpower strong?? And if so please spread that little pill around. And don't fucking tell me it's only available in Mexico on a shelf next to your HGH hormone that is keeping your body fat below 3% but is causing you to grow a SLIGHT penis.
I have bought the diet pills. Nothing legal over-the-counter here in the states will do much more for you than make your heart feel like you drank three cups of Starbucks. Whoop dee shit. I have done Weight Watchers. It did work but I have led a lifelong battle with mindless snacking so unless one of those coaches moves into my house and sets up a tent next to my pantry,it will never come naturally to portion control and not eat Stacy's Pita Chips straight from the bag. So sue me. I guess I will live with my bad eating habits until Jennifer Hudson moves next door and becomes my singing, sista' Weight Watchers coach.
Things could be worse. I could be so fat that my gelatinous ass is completely bed-ridden and they have to saw a chunk of my bedroom wall out to hoist my beached whale booty out into daylight. I could be one of those Freaky Eaters who consumes Comet, only French fries, raw meat, or even toilet paper. Or who only talks to others through her ventriloquism and puppets. I suppose these are real problems but I cannot even comprehend this shit. I almost think it's fake but then the crazy Comet cleanser-snarfing bitch is in denial until her dentist tells her she has to pull all her upper teeth. Bummer. If some freak-ass loser came up to me and started talking to me without her lips moving and a giant rag doll with yellow yarn hair, I'd first slap myself to make sure no one slipped LSD in my Vitamin Water. Then I would slap her for being a such a raging bag of dork shit. Then I'd rip the head off her doll and shit down its neck. Or I could be a hoarder, either of trash, knick knacks, or even pets. My family could disown me for having mountains of unsorted Christmas decorations piled so high you need to repel to find my kitchen. Or 67 cats running rampant and the ammonia smell of piss so strong it masks the odor of dead kitty carcasses under my turd-covered couch.
Glad I'm normal. At least I don't watch too much TV....
