So I'm getting out the ingredients to make devil cookies (mmmmm...devil cookies) and I decide to check my phone messages.  Telemarketer; telemarketer; Oh!  Jay's sister Patty left a message.  I love Patty.  Haven't talked to her in a while, I wonder what's up?

What's up is apparently a rumor that I'm pregnant.

Jeez.  Can't a gal just be fat anymore?  It's not like I gained a lot of weight in the last few months, either; I've been this size for about four years.  I'm not even that fat.  Sure, I'm not a size 8 anymore and if I were cast in a sitcom, I'd definitely be the fat lady, but C'mon, have you seen the runts that pass for 'normal sized' lately?

Sure, in a picture of me with my three skinny sisters, it's obvious that I could kick them all to death without breaking a sweat, but I consider that a good thing.  Keeps them in line.  I'm the oldest; they should respect me.

Okay, so maybe the philosophy Jay and I have lived by for the past five years: "Go ahead and have seconds; the terrorists are probably gonna kill us" may have been a bit pessimistic, but Lord, is it fun.

The thing is, I used to be quite slim.  This summer at my Mom's house, she had some photos out from the early 80's when I was almost skinny.  That was two decades and four kids ago.  After visiting 180 on four different occasions, 120 really doesn't seem worth the effort.  I'm not saying I liked being 180, I'm just saying 140 looks comfy.

Besides, Jay thinks I'm hot and that's all I care about.  I'm not pregnant but it's no thanks to him.

What it really comes down to is this; am I going to skip the devil cookies just because some gossip monger can't keep her mouth shut or her facts straight?

I think we all know the answer to that one.

 

What did you think of this article?

Liked
Disliked
No Opinion