Fatty, Fatty, Two By Four - Can't Get Through The Kitchen Door

I had a fat day yesterday.

If you are skinny, average, chubby or way fat, as long as you are a female over twenty-five, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Doesn't matter what the scales say. It may stay on the very same number.

But your clothes don't fit, you feel so fat you can't take a deep breath. The  mirror has turned into a house of horrors.

It's the B word in full bloom.

You know the word. B.L.O.A.T.

Like a big old run over possum in the middle of the road after two days in the hot sun.

That's what I'm talkin' about.

Now, I know there are some people who never think about their weight. Their size never enters their minds. They don't worry about when or what they eat.

Those people are called men.

But after a female turns twelve, she can never trust her body again. It turns on her. It changes shapes. Suddenly there are bumps and bulges and curves. Most people call them breasts, hips, thighs and tummies.

We are suddenly moody once a month.

And what about pregnancy?

One's body becomes nothing but a warehouse for another body. Our body gets bigger and bigger and bigger.

I have one friend, who started out a skinny little thing and gained ONE HUNDRED POUNDS during pregnancy. (You know who you are).  That's a lot of weight to put on in a few short months.

She is back to normal, but swears she will never, ever, ever get pregnant again.

She'll probably have twins the next time.

You read magazines that tell you to "Listen to your body."

You mean the one that says, "Sppt. Hey! Doesn't a mashed/french fries/scalloped, baked with butter potato and a T-Bone with chicken on the side sound good?"

Are you kidding me?

That's  why I'm having a fat day in the first place.