Arsenic poisoning is too good for that hateful cretin Shanley.
I’d love to drown him but getting him near enough water would be tricky, so that’s out.
Murderous, murderous of me. – I am singing like Marvin Gaye.
Despite the elevator issue, pushing him down the stairs is the best and most effective method.
I’ve even written haiku about it:
The drunken old man
Stumbles, and misses a step
Cracked Cranium
“All the kings horses and all the kings men could not put Mr. Shanley back together again”…….
Everybody has a dark side.
Let’s all take an honest moment with ourselves. Or in my case a moment might be too long with myself on this particular issue.
Inhale. Exhale.
Uncertain if any of you have had the misfortune of experiencing anything similar to the unpleasantness I shared in the previous post. But in many situations, being overweight does put you in a rather precarious and powerless position. This is a fact and not a persecution complex or a hysterical fat thought.
Prejudice of any kind is and damn well should be socially unacceptable. The last socially acceptable prejudice is against folks who are fat. Regardless of how much melanoma is in your skin, what God you bow down to, who you fuck or which gender type you identify with, you are treated differently. Some folks will not give it a second thought to disparage you based upon your BMI and not based upon your character. Fat people have character? Please.
You and your imposing body represent one of their greatest fears. They are terrified of losing control and becoming fat. Some folks suggest the only way to face one’s demons is to look them square in the face, call them fat ass and treat them like second class citizens……
No matter who you are or what you have accomplished, this can happen to you. You don’t think so? Well here is a classic example of all of your doubting Thomas’ out there:
Everyone on the planet has heard of Adele. Her voice has won the world over. Frankly the radio should no longer be called the radio, it should be called Adele. Anywhere and everywhere you can hear an Adele song playing. I challenge you to flip through the radio stations for 13 seconds. Within those 13 seconds, you will hear at least one Adele song. Adele has become the soundtrack of our lives.
Now nobody and I mean nobody is going to argue that Adele is not extraordinarily talented. But her talent, record sales, a U-Haul full of Grammys and any other type of music award under the sun did not stop Karl Lagerfeld from calling her “fat”. Yes, the don of fashion aka “The Kaiser” who was once obese himself had the brass balls to call Adele “fat”.
Is empathy dead?
Not to hammer you over the head here…. The man was obese. The purpose of his signature facial fan fluttering was to hide his numerous chins. But to his credit, he admittedly lost over 90 pounds to wear age inappropriate skinny jeans. (I’m right about the anti-Christ.)
He’s dead now. But if he was still alive, he’d wish he was dead because…
On his best and brightest day, Lagerfeld never looked as good as Adele or made anyone feel as good as Adele does every 13 seconds of every day.
For retribution I think it is only fair that Adele be given the choice to:
- Cut off his pony tail on the run way and the beat him with it
- Command the Kaiser to get chin implants so he has 21 double chins as an homage to Adele’s first album
- Never allow him to wear skinny jeans again. He can only wear HUSKY Drawstring Recycling Blue Bags
- All of the above
In the spirit of being a team player, I’ll step up to the plate and say it….
Being overweight holds me back. I am ashamed to admit it, but it does. There are many things I will not do because of it. There are many places I will not go because of it. There are many things I will not say because of it.
I allow it to define who I am, what I do and how I feel. This specter is always lurking deep in my subterranean fat thoughts. I gave up some of my autonomy and based the rest on the sheer size and volume of my ass.
This, my friends is an unacceptable way to live one’s life.
I am on the cusp of mumu at warp speed. Tarps are on sale at Target. I don’t feel well. I look worse. My legs hurt when I wake up in the morning. I dread flights of stairs…. BUT I have started taking them. I can put on a puppet show with the rolls of fat from my stomach Jim Henson would envy.
Can the enormous size of one’s own ass give them hernia? It’s grown like Leviathan. I’m depressed. I don’t like myself like this. Am I a keg with legs?
What if there is a fire? Will I need to be taken out of my apartment with a crane?
One of my secret fantasies is impaling the sales clerk with a wire hanger when she asks in her helium induced Kim K voice, “It didn’t fit, did it”? No. It didn’t fit. But my hands will fit perfectly… around your neck.
BREATHE
What really pisses me off to the point where my blood begins to boil…. Boil, Boil, Toil and Trouble…. And you thought I was homicidal over Shanley and the sales clerk…. Ha! – (Yes, it’s accountability time) –
The only perpetrator here is me… and almond butter…. And cookies…. and vast quantities of other things I had no business eating.
I let this happen while I became a passive spectator in my life that ate and drank and got fat. I have been through the metamorphosis of losing and gaining way too many times. I am a freakish moth. Almond butter is the light I am drawn to….
FRIENDS DON’T LET FRIENDS EAT ALMOND BUTTER.
FUCKING AB…
You must face this reality if you have a closet of clothes that ranges from a size 6 to a size 16. By the way I look like a sausage in the casing in the size 16. Perhaps I should email the folks at Jimmie Dean about starring in a new commercial.
Bottom line, I am sick of being a prisoner in my own body. I refuse to occupy this squalid and poisonous cell any longer.
FIGHTING WORDS:
Am I my weights bitch? Or is it going to be my bitch?
It will be like the end of the Shawshank Redemption where Tim Robbins escapes and jubilantly throws his arms up in the air – FREEDOM! LIBERATION!
I am ready. And contrary to the slogan in the commercial, it is not for a lap band. I have chosen to make a lifestyle change. Not a diet. A positive lifestyle change. I know myself too well and need something prolonged. Not something that ends after day 31 of eating cabbage because on day 31.5 I’ll be diving into the Haagen Daz from a spring board.
Enough of this bullshit. It’s time to take charge.
After work I marched over to the nearest gym and I joined it. I also got a trainer whom I will meet with in two days. This person could be a male or female. I don’t care if it’s Chewbacca , it’s a trainer.
Then I got home, put on my thinking cap and created this motivational exercise. It’s easy:
Step 1: Write 3 checks. All 3 are for very small amounts.
Step 2: Give them to someone with follow through in addressed and post marked envelopes. (I have chosen my mother to be the messenger because, believe me, she WILL follow through.)
Step 3: If you fail at what you’re setting out to do, they must be mailed. No ifs, ands or buts.
For me failure is not an option. My failure would be a crime against humanity because I would personally endorse the following parties: The NRA (National Rifle Association, the RNC (the Republican National Committee) and the Neo Nazis. Some people fear becoming obese, I fear Draconian totalitarian misogynist, homophobic racist/race baiting zealots with guns.
Seeking Peace Strength and Sanity 