I was looking in the mirror this morning and thought I might have lost some weight. Generally, there is a direct correlation between the proximity of a man in my life and weight. I tend to not eat as much, if no guy is around.

Ergo, I am no lady, since a lady does not jam her face into a feed bag in the company of gentleman callers. More importantly, obesity is my future if I end up in a satisfying, happy relationship.

Since the clothes they sell to chubby chicks, like thus and so,
are a cruel fucking hoax, any vague sense of style I possess would evaporate. I swear to fucking Christ, clothing manufacturers are giving a big fuck you to overeaters: “Hey lady, since you like groceries, I bet you have lost your eyesight, too.” I once went to one of those stores with a friend, and I swear there was a dress with a Good & Plenty pattern . Somewhere some skinny chick in a design studio was giggling herself weak, “Get it? Good & Plenty, because they’re like fat, you know. Plenty. Ha ha ha. Let’s go eat some salads.”

I guess the plus side (of the plus size) is I, of course, only care about my appearance vis a vis men. Because, at the end of the day, all any woman ever wants is a boy to like her. Am I right, ladies?