fat- uhhhh, i mean squeezy girls rock

yes, i know i'm not fat. in fact, one could look at the statistics and look at me and say "voila! at last we've found her! that's the average american woman!" it just so happens that my dimensions are pretty much the ones they always print in those articles trying to bash the skinny people. leave the skinny people alone, i say. if they're twigs, they either can't help it or they wanna give up the joys of key lime pie and just go jogging all damn day. stop fucking with them. they're little people (not THAT kind, liz) and that's the way it is. i've seen megan's immediate family and no matter how much food they inhale it's just not gonna have the fat chicks in it. so what? without her, i wouldn't be able to go into those stores with all the teeny tiny clothes and play dress-up with my own personal mannequin. take that, betsey johnson... oh, and take a look in the mirror while you're at it.

on the other hand, my kind is the squeezy type. we get called voluptuous or rubenesque. the word flashy is actually kinda sexy to me, perhaps because it alludes to being nekkid and prancing around while the wobbly bits shimmy. please don't call me queen-sized. it makes me feel like a pair of pantyhose. oh, and barrel-chested isn't so good either, due to the polka reference. (is there an anti-hyphenated theme going here?) personally, i think referring to myself as a fat girl is hilarious. it's a role i've embraced as preposterous and amiable. to think that someone who has, let's say, an extra cheese reserve in the belly is in the same category as a medical mystery makes me laugh. my blegs are leaking down towards the back of my knees, but i don't care anymore, and just because my frutt (or my sassy frass, if you will) and my butt are the same size doesn't make me a freak.

of course there is a dark side to being heavy and it does carry health risks. of course there is a dark side to driving a car and it does carry health risks. of course there is a dark side to eating sushi and it does carry health risks. of course there is a dark side to having having a life and it does carry health risks. let's talk about the funny part again, shall we?

in the grand tradition of being a teenager, i hated the way i looked back then. my fashion sense was totally fabulous - for the eighties, mind you - but everything else was wrong wrong wrong! a logical person might blame this on the media and all those trashy celebutard-filled magazines. (once again, that's hypenated. see?!?) any rational teenager would blame it on... well, whatever they could find that was handy. what's the catch? for quite a while, due to extreme measures of intervention on my part, i was a skinny girl! if only i had foamy the squirrel with me back then to tell me to just fucking get over it, i would've enjoyed life a lot more.

one day along the path to my "fat girls are awesome too" enlightenment, i decided to try on clothes that fit me. what? that's crazy! who would do that? i mean, after years of being told that i am the average for a woman, and yet i'm somehow not a medium size but more like an XXL in the boobs, it was an amazing difference. clothes that fit don't make you feel like a sausage; they look good on you. and let's face it, jeans don't lie. your wardrobe will be honest with you and tell you it's time to hit the store for an up or down size.

except for those damn cosby sweaters. they're going to lie to you no matter what just to save themselves. sweaters are difficult to trust on any given day.

if you have real friends who aren't afraid to make you mad, and they're willing to put up with your whining when you go shopping together, they'll express in words or gestures what the clothing can't. it might just be with an upturned nose or a sideways glance with a snort. you have to watch them closely to get their initial reaction when you walk out in new duds. just because you think it's comfortable doesn't mean you don't look like a watermelon in it. (thank you holly for saving me from that mistake.) or else ask a total stranger and remind them that they have nothing to lose by vocalizing their disdain for that dress. you'd be surprised how much detail you can get when you don't even know the person.

and don't be shy about demanding "hey, let's go to the fat girl's store!" they put it there for a reason, you know. which is to say, you can find clothes that fit you. or so what if you have to go to gap kids to get your jeans? they're cheaper there anyway. i'm not going to blame the media monster for being a fat girl. maybe i should blame the people who make clothes, but i don't really have time for any of that. i'm going to get myself a damn shirt. one that doesn't require duct tape to hold it shut in the front just because it's supposedly the correct size. as mary always says, no sees the tags but me.

all this is to say that someone will see the tags besides me. in celebration of my fat girl glee, i'm having some chickadees over to swap clothes. fat girl's wardrobe party! EEE! (maybe i should have invited drag queens, a ala king of the hill, so i could get some sequins in the mix.) although susan likes the term squeezy better, and i can totally hang with that one. squeezy is cuuuute. so anyway, in order to save some money and spruce up the old closet, i'm extending my nuwsed item policy to people i know and hoping i'll have something they can use. any reason to have people over and nosh on a snack while gossiping is good enough for me. in exchange i'll be looking for some nuwsed things to keep me out of the thrift stores for a few days. sheesh, i've gotten rid of so much over the past year that i just have to look and see what i've still got. tank tops, anyone?


random facts about me:
i like bottle caps.
grey is my favorite color.
my eyes are darker than anyone else i know.