Fat rant

I didn’t expect to get a comment from someone in the blogosphere telling me I’m mean and ugly on the inside for writing about 9x pantyhose.  I took the comment down because I’m anything but mean, I just thought it was humorous that a gas station in the middle of nowhere is selling those.  If you can’t find the humor in that, then maybe you shouldn’t be reading my blog.  There’s a little arrow in the top right-hand corner where you can go to the next blog if you want.  By the way, putting on pantyhose is a universal thing.  It doesn’t matter if you’re a size 10 or size 30, it’s a struggle to put on pantyhose.   Trust me, I haven’t been a size 10 since homecoming of my junior year in highschool and I won’t tell you my dress size now.  I’ve struggled with my weight since puberty and it’s on-going.  I said I’m not a supermodel.  Let me clarify that.  In college (1993+) I didn’t put on the freshman 15, I put on the freshman 50.  Yeah.  In 1997, shopping for wedding dresses in Shreveport, LA became a new low point because the samples were nowhere close to my size.  Every girl dreams of trying on her wedding dress and knowing it’s The One, not me.  Since then I’ve had three children and my stomach looks like a street map of New Orleans.  I’ve done every diet known to man and now I’m on Nutrisystem.  I won’t pretend that comment didn’t bother me.  I’m not mean, I’m not anti-fat.  I’m a chubby girl with a sense of humor.

At the crop I went to in Natchez I was described to someone as the “red-headed heavy girl wearing a pink shirt.”  So, there ya go.  I thought that was pretty damn funny. She didn’t mention my adorable leopard print Volatiles or my freckles or my killer wit or my fabulous earrings or bags.  Funny, huh?

I read the comment to my hubs and he started laughing.  I’m so mean. Mean, but I’m as cute as all get out.

Love,

the red-headed heavy girl wearing a pink shirt