The “D” in my DNA is for “disgust”

Hi, my father just shared this on Facebook with a “Hee,” so if you need me I’ll be jumping out a window.

Greasy like Sunday morning…

I called a Lyft to take me to Federal Donuts.

I think I just got fatter.

Baby Got Backfat

I love how they’re making cuter plus-size swimsuits, but can you cut it out with the string-held open backs? Baby got back fat, bro — those strings would disappear into the trenches.

Pizza understands

Hippie wisdom: “Just listen to your body, it’ll tell you what it needs.”

Me: “Mm’kay. Body, what do you need?”

Body: “I need to order a large pizza, eat one full slice, then eat just the cheese off the rest.”

Me: [blink] “Um… Hey, hippies? I don’t know if the fat broad can be trusted…”

Jesus just cockblocked my lazy day

I took a couple days off, trying to alleviate some work burnout, and put myself on the waitlist for a popular class at my gym tonight. I figured if I got in, that was Jesus telling me to get off my ass and leave the house, and if not, clearly He’d prefer I stay home and watch comedy shows.

They just emailed me that I got in, and godDAMMIT, Jesus! This is why I’m not religious!

Ugh. FINE. I’ll do something “They” claim is good for mental health — fucking hippies tryna thwart the part of my brain that’s perfectly content being fat and depressed, thankyouverymuch. 🙄

I’ll just live under the stairs, it’s fine.

I’m preliminary swimsuit shopping for my April vacation, and even on the curvy-chicks, we-need-underwires, our-models-have-an-adorable-hint-of-backfat site, I want to jump out the goddamn window.

It’s February. This layer of fat is keeping me warm, thankyouverymuch. I will be a quality buffet if the apocalypse happens — I am marbled as FUCK. And I’m also SUPER good spending my life in these oversized sweats. HMPH.

Yo quiero a fatnap.

“How’s weight loss going?”

“Well, I worked out for 2 hours this morning, then had to WORK for 8, and now it’s 9 p.m. and taco delivery is on its way, and then I’m gonna go collapse in my bed in a fat, torpid, guacamole-infused heap, so…👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼“

“Just writing to remind you you’re a fat-ass. Carry on!

This was in my mail when I got home, as if Cigna knew I’d ordered a big fuck-off pizza on the way.

In a related story, Cigna can eat a dick, which I hear are low in cholesterol.

EDIT
Followup: If you ever wondered, this is what happens when you tweet publicly that “Cigna can eat a dick.”

Fuck it, I should just get fatter.

I understand “non-scale victories” and other standard things people say here, but also…The number on my scale is not moving, and now I just want to eat only manicotti because fuck it, my efforts are meaningless and human bodies are stupid.

Thank you for attending my TED Talk.

Does throwing shade count as cardio?

Current mood: “Oh, this cheery bitch can kiss the fattest part of my ass.”

So yeah, my exercise program is going well.