My 600-Pound Brain

The other day my friend made a side-by-side photo of her face on the day she started working out, and her face a few weeks after, and you can really see a difference — she’s lost weight and she’s glowier (totally a word).

I just did the same photo, and…welp, now I’m just gonna eat a whole pizza for breakfast because fuck this fruit bullshit, I look EXACTLY the same. My body is disloyal and this is just what I weigh. Maybe I’ll be a fat activist. Maybe I’ll just gain MORE weight and get my own reality show. I’m probably funnier than most of the people on My 600-Pound Life.

I quit. Send snacks.

Thank you for attending my tantrum.

I’m all about fitness — fitness whole dick in my mouth

Super cute OkCupid guy and I have tons in common, but he exercises every day and likes “fit” women.

OK, listen — I am not fit. But I’m pretty sure you could fuck fitness into me. We should try. What if I’m Patient Zero for innovative new science? We could be pioneers!

Tell ya what: Go down on me for 10 minutes today, I’ll go for a run tomorrow. Solid exchange, no? Plus, bonus, the more we repeat this process, the thinner my thighs get, the easier you fit between them. BOOM, everybody wins.

And hey, if it doesn’t work, feel free to ditch my fat ass after a month. I’ll have intimacy anxiety by then, anyway.

“Go on, take the money and run.”

Wait, what? There’s a woman shaped like me on a magazine cover? A fitness magazine cover?

The hell? Is that even legal? Holy shit, is the world ending?

I’d already been feeling fairly decent about my body lately…but THIS?

Damn, I’m an American woman whose self-esteem seems to be hovering around normal — someone better send out a rep from Corporate to shut that shit down.

That’s probably why there are ads inside the magazine, just to remind me that I am, in fact, too big for my britches.

Captain Picard never logged his calories.

Diet and fitness challenge with friends, Day 1: There is no cheese on this salad and everything is stupid and tastes like tragedy with a dressing of baby unicorn tears and I’m still menstruating and if you don’t hear from me again it’s because I died of cheeselessness and injustice.

Pretty(running)pants!

My August issue of Women’s Running came today! Gorgeous! 

 

Fun with Facebook Fitness “Facts”

Um, false. Well, I guess it’s true in that every man I’ve ever loved has, in fact, HAD abdominal muscles somewhere on his person. But I don’t have a six-pack, so I’d be kind of an asshole if I expected my mate to have one. I have a six-pack of, like…single-serve vanilla puddings.

Do I want to lick Christian Bale? Certainly. Do I love him? No.

P.S. Can I lick Christian Bale? Please? Can he be wearing only a utility belt and the Batman mask while I do it? (Don’t judge me.)

Insane in the (Vaginal) Membrane

I don’t know, Shaun T… What WILL you do with this box?

(Nothing, I know. But I dare to dream!)

Eat a dick, Mom — they don’t have carbs!

I am, by all appearances, a fully functional adult and a contributing member of society.

Until my mother invites me to like “The Belly Fit Club” on Facebook. Then I’m 12 years old being told my burgeoning lady-gut is “just baby fat”… but also that I should avoid sugar and carbs.

Whatever, lady. I’m adorable. Belly fat and all.

I couldn’t have said it better.

The Six Most Shockingly Irresponsible ‘Fitspiration’ Photos