Throwback Thursday: The Five Stages of Thanksgiving 


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This is me limbering up for The Big Meal.

We all know about the five stages of grief, but did you know there are five stages of Thanksgiving? No? Well, sit down and unbutton your pants. It’ll be a bumpy ride along the lumpy gravy train to Food Coma Town. All aboard!

Anticipation–
Stage one begins at the first sight of a fallen leaf. This glorious sight means pants weather. Fat pants weather. Fat pants weather means Thanksgiving is a-coming. With Preparing-for-Thanksgiving-Fat-Pants, comes the ceasing of any and all grooming below the belt. The growing hair provides warmth as the nights grow colder. Also growing, is the instinctual need to add a layer of blubber to the body for insulation. Diets begin to fizzle out, PSLs begin to replace protein smoothies, and an anticipation for what’s to come makes even the most sensible of individuals start to prepare their stomachs for the absurd amount of food that they’ll be stuffing into them.
As the days get shorter and the big day gets closer, the more competitive of eaters begin training their stomachs for the massive meal with marathon eating that includes, but is not limited to: the better part of large cheese pizzas, pints of Cherry Garcia, and entire bags of wasabi kettle chips.
Dreams are feverish, wanting, longing.

Delight–
Stage two occurs during the day in question. The anticipation of mounds of gravy soaked carbohydrates and creamy cocktails to wash it all down has finally come to fruition. Despite a meals-worth of gherkins, deviled eggs, and shrimp dip, plates are piled high and inhaled with wild abandon. Oh, the rapture. The exhaltation. The pure delight.
Food is consumed at an alarming rate, and fabric is pushed to max capacity.

Disgust–
Somewhere between buttering a fifth dinner roll and the unbuttoning, unzipping, and unraveling of anything constricting, a realization that “filthy pig” doesn’t even come close begins to weigh on the psyche. For only a split second, “Maybe I should stop?” crosses the mind, but someone says “pumpkin cheesecake”,  and any and all semblance of humanity is lost amidst belches tasting of turkey giblets.

*Delirium-
This is a bonus stage that only the truest of fat pants champions ever reach. This is when you become truly drunk on food. Instead of blood, you’ve got Grandma’s famous gravy in all it’s sodium-induced glory coursing through your veins. Incoherent babbling and hallucinations are common. If you’ve ever thought you were eating a piece of pie, but upon sobering up, you realize you ate half of a fabric leaf napkin ring, you’ll know you reached this challenge level.

Additionally, if you become food, you’re delirious af.

Depression–
Stage four generally comes during the requisite food-induced coma directly following the unadulterated eating frenzy that went down like something normally reserved for the animal channel. After realizing that a five gallon bowl of jello salad has been demolished by only one person, in a span of four hours, a deep depression is expected.
The depression stage is especially bad if pant buttons are blown off due to the sheer force of an expanding gut, or expensive Spanx can’t even, so they jump ship.
Phrases like: “What the actual fuck is wrong with me? You promised yourself you wouldn’t eat six potatoes worth of mashed potatoes again!” And, “Did I even enjoy that half a pie I inhaled?” is common.
Usually, one must ride out this disastrous depressive stage at home, on the couch, with plenty of Maalox, hobo hair, and possibly Depends.

Amnesia–
The last stage of Thanksgiving is amnesia, as anyone who survives Thanksgiving forgets the killer heartburn, diarrhea rash, and shame in less than a year’s time.
Unlike the five stages of grief, the five stages of Thanksgiving are cyclical and incurable.
Some scientists and theorists believe that there is something about the falling of leaves, the arrival of layered-clothing-weather and the availability of pumpkin spice everything that sparks something animalistic, ugly, and shocking in usually sensible individuals.

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Enjoy drenching your plate in gravy. Take pleasure in numbing your fat pain receptors with booze. Be mindful of how delicious pumpkin pie feels sliding down your gizzard. Enjoy the glorious gluttony!

Happy Thanksgiving from your favorite Fatty!

The Dieting Chronicles of Dumpy Von Marshmallow Waist and Duchess McMilkshakes: The Thanksgiving Edition

Ah, Thanksgiving- the one* time of year it’s totally OK to fall asleep on the couch in your fat pants after getting gravy wasted and eating 18 rolls and fand a half pieces of pie.

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Since McMilkshakes and Dumpy have started a weight loss journey right smack dab before the biggest eating holiday of the year, they have some worries. Some goals. And some real carb-filled desires.

How are you feeling about Thanksgiving? Hungry? Worried? Fatstatic (fat + ecstatic)?

K: I am totally a mixture of all three. This past weekend, my dude and I went to a Steampunk Ball. The skirt I always wear to Steampunk events was tight the last time I wore it. But, my Christmas miracle came early this year-it was fairly loose upon putting it on for the Ball. I had, at least, enough room for a few pounds of gravy-soaked stuffing and some (half) a pie. Yet, I’m not sure I really want to completely obliterate the work I’ve put in on stuffing myself silly. So, I’m damn hungry and feeling massively fatstatic, but I think worried is weighing more heavily right now.

A: I’m looking forward to it getting here and being able to relax. I am an obsessive over planner and have spent HOURS Pinteresting and shopping for the perfect ingredients and decor.  I need centerpieces with matching table runners and place cards or our meal will not be a success (I’m that bitch🙋🏼‍♀️). As far as the eating is concerned I’m not super worried. Even though I can do a lot of damage to myself, and Costco makes an incredible pumpkin cheesecake, I don’t think one day will undo almost 3 weeks of hard work. Will it? One gonna-eat-like-I’ve-never-eaten-before-in-my-entire-life-thank-you-for-averting-your-eyes day. Also, I plan on being reeeeeeally drunk, so I probably won’t eat that much anyway, because the shitty beer I like to drink is very filling (probably because it’s 80% water🤷🏼‍♀️). In all reality, I’ll probably just spend the entire day barefoot, with the hiccups, telling everyone how much they mean to me, and then go to bed at 4:30 missing dinner entirely because mama can’t hold her booze like she used to. 

*Diet tip: Get completely hammered drunk to keep yourself from overeating at holidays with your family. 

**Bonus points: You’ll be too drunk to care about all the obnoxious life choice questions, AND you’ll probably throw up at some point eliminating some of those pesky calories. 

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How are you planning to not completely sabotage your diet?

K: First, you need to understand that in my family, Thanksgiving has already begun. It began with the arrival of my aunt and uncle from the north and it won’t end until everyone has packed their turkey-bloated rear ends into their cars to head back home on Sunday.

When our family gets together, whether it’s on Turkey Day or not, we eat like it’s end of days.

Thus, my plan is to not indulge in the excess- the creamy hors d’oeuvres, the carb-filled sides, or the decadent desserts on all days that aren’t Thanksgiving. On Thanksgiving? I’m not counting shit and I’m eating until I puke. Go big or go home, I say.

A: With alcohol poisoning! No, I’m going to stick to my favorites that I literally have once a year (please see the aforementioned cheesecake reference) on Thanksgiving, in reasonable portions, and I’m not going to feel guilty about any of it. I had briefly considered lightening things up with healthier options, but quickly dropped that idea like a hot potato with a spider on it. Indulging in a handful of holidays each year is not what made me this round, friends- it’s the other 360 days I decided to treat myself. 

What are your plans for the Big Day?

K: Fat pants. Eating with wild abandon. Pepto at the ready.

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A: My family is spending it at my house this year. There will be 11 of us in all, which is exciting because my house is super small. It’s gonna be a clown car of drunken fatness all afternoon. Fun fact: this is the first year without my mom, and I already want to slam my head in the door til it falls off. So, all in all, it should be an interesting day.

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Most Memorable Thanksgiving

K: My poor gram suffered with dementia the last years of her life. While her declining brain health left us deeply saddened, we realized that finding the humor whenever and wherever possible was our saving grace.

Poor Grandma got to be pretty downright mean in her later years, but can you really blame anyone with dementia or Alzheimer’s? Losing your mind has to be the scariest and most frustrating thing ever.

Most times she got meaner than a dog shitting tacks, someone would be offended or hurt. Sometimes, though, her attitude created a truly memorable family moment.

One year, right during grace, someone let loose a dirty joke, a fart, or something our dear, always-a-lady grandma would normally be appalled by. Instead of cursing us all under her breath, she decided to give it to us heathens once and for all. When we all lifted our heads after our half-assed, disgraceful grace, Grandma, at the head of the table was flipping us all the bird. Quite apropos for Thanksgiving, I think.

A: It was 2004 and I had been married for a little over a month. Somehow, my in-laws won the coin toss and we were having our first thanksgiving as man and wife at their house. It was the first year I didn’t get to spend with my parents so I was in rare form the minute I got out of bed that morning. Anyway, we were heading out to Carson Shitty and called my mother-in-law to see if we could bring something for dinner, ie. a pie or some nice bread? Perhaps a moderately priced bottle of wine? Nope. This woman requests a fucking bathroom set for the guest bathroom and could we please hurry because people were on their way over? So there we were- me and my new husband and my real bad attitude taking pictures on my red Motorola Razor flip phone – ‘no that’s ocean blue and I specifically asked for shell blue’ -to find the perfect shade of azure for her towels and rugs. I never got paid back for any of that by the way.

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Most Embarrassing Turkey Day Moment?

K: Gosh, that has to be the time I ate so much and got so bloated with my turkey baby, my tights jumped ship and rolled clear off my gut and down to my thighs. You could actually hear my fat give a sigh of relief as it was released from its restrictive bindings. You could see the band through my dress roll and get bigger like a snow ball as it made its way down my lumpy mountain-like belly. This was also the last year I felt it necessary to rope in my fat for the biggest meal of the year. It’s leggings or no pants at all these days. For my family’s sake, I usually choose to wear leggings. You’re welcome.

A: I went to my family’s house for dinner one year and it happened to be a year I had just gone through the worst breakup in history. They will probably make a Life Time movie about it, or at least they should! Anyway, I loaded my mom in my truck, who was slower than the second coming of Christ. We always had to bring her giant purse (no joke this thing weighed at LEAST 10 pounds), her smaller purse, her walker, her walker basket full of nonsense, “No you don’t need to bring your hardback books, Ma.. there probably won’t be a lot of down time for reading. Please don’t bring your jug of water. I’m SURE Sheila will have some.” TWO cups full of crushed ice, portable oxygen with 3 or 4 extra canisters of air because you just never know, etc. No joke, I’ve gone on vacation for weeks with less stuff than she hauled everywhere we went. Eventually, we arrived at our destination and unloaded Ma Rip and her Mary Poppins bag of treasures, when I was immediately greeted by a long and sloppy tongue kiss from a very drunk, very married, older gentleman with no teeth in. My mom was smart enough to duck so I’m assuming I got two kisses worth. To this day, every time I see that gentleman I am reminded of that terrible kiss and I politely excuse myself to the opposite side of the gathering.

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All in all Thanksgiving is a lot of planning and stressing for very little pay off, but at least there is pumpkin cheesecake.

Dumpy Von Marshmallow Waist and Duchess Milkshakes would like to wish you all a fantastic food-filled Thanksgiving. If you’re not American and/or you don’t celebrate this gluttonous holiday, we will eat a slice (or 10) of pie for you!

What is your favorite Thanksgiving food? What food would you totally wreck your diet for? Let us know in the comments!

*OK, so this is not the only time I engage in such activities. Busted.

Free Advice Friday From Your Aunt Fatty

For Fat Agony Aunt (Love what you’ve done with my name),

A neighbour (yuk) has stopped to chat at the gate on occasion when walking their dog. (A friend of the husband from years ago) the last twice he has spoke about an open marriage … they are naturists and have just returned from their villa in a naturists villiage in Spain. Yesterday he asked the husband (he hasn’t said these things to him) if we would go for supper next week, p.s. they have a hot tub. Question: what if he brings holiday snaps out … or strips for natural hot tub?

Freaking Out About The Freaks

Dear Freaking Out About The Freaks,

You mean you’re not into a freaky deaky neighborhood partner swap? All the good kind of neighbors are open to buck naked and hairy hot tubbing and sharing their spouses like their favorite casserole recipe. Aren’t they?

Oh, I’ve just been informed that this is, in fact, not normal behavior and you have every reason to be a little put off by being stopped by them for fear they will show you pics of their wrinkly parts!

So, this is what you do…

You get to them first. Be a bigger Freak a Leak by showing them your holiday pics at the even nude-ier naturalist village (just print pics off of some nudist site that don’t show faces, only bare asses) and maybe even ask them their opinion on homemade German dungeon porn. Without a doubt and in no time they will be the ones avoiding you, you freaky dog you. *wink*

Or…not and you will have created an even more awkward situation, but it could be fun trying.

In all honesty, I’d just try to avoid them like the plague. Figure out their schedule of leaving the house and never leave your house at the same time. You know, be a real mature adult about it.

I feel like you need to update us on how this all transpires. Write back, Freaking Out. We all want to know if you got roped into nekkid hot tubbing or not.

Love, Your Aunt Fatty (who thinks this conundrum is really hilariously amazing. Sorry not sorry)

Dear Aunty Fatty,
I have an umh ‘delicate’ problem. My cute little fur baby has gas. All the time. Bad, smelly, horrible, silent bombs. Help! Should I collect it to fuel my car?

Watering Eyes

Yeah, you did that. Gross, huh?

Dear Watering Eyes,

ABORT! ABORT! ABORT!

Just kidding, you can’t just pack up and leave your beloved shit-smelling fur baby.

So, story time.

My aunt and uncle had a dog once who had the most rancid farts, they could legit melt the varnish off furniture. They were so bad, you could taste them hours later. (This dog also loved to eat all of the bad things that made him fart, then puke, so he could eat his puke and then fart puke-smelling gas bombs. It was a vicious, noxious cycle.) Yet, this was one of their most beloved fur babies.

Moral of the story?

No matter how many nose hairs they singe, we still love them. We make accommodations to make them and ourselves as comfortable as possible.

What I would suggest is to first make sure it is, in fact, your defenseless fur child. In all likelihood, it could be the dude at home. For years, Aunt Fatty’s own father got away with blaming, at least, half of his farts on the poor dog.

If it is your poor pup, just cover your nose and mouth with a pillow or spray some essential oil air freshener (my favorite is Fuck Me, My Eyes Are Burning) to cover the horrific smell, while reminding yourself that your fur baby eats the crumbs you drop on the floor and sometimes they make your life easier by eating their own poop. Sacrifices.

Your idea of collecting the gas to fuel your car is genius. I’d legit start working on how you can make that happen (hook a fatty up if you ever become rich and famous on your fart fuel).

Love, Your Aunt Fatty (who is retching a bit)

Dear Aunt Fatty,

How do I ask my boss for a raise to allow me to buy lunch for my co worker everyday, because she can’t remember to throw away her Tupperware? There’s enough penicillin growing in our staff fridge to cure a small country’s syphilis outbreak. Please advise.

Worried About Contracting Syphilis From the Staff Fridge

Dear Worried About Contracting Syphilis From the Staff Fridge,

Ah, the joys of workplace refrigerator sharing. I bet the microwave is an equally horrifying place.

Honestly, I wouldn’t even waste your raise on some chick who has zero regard for everyone at your place of employment opposed to having their food mingling with mold spores.

I’d pack my damn lunch in a mini cooler that I know isn’t growing bacteria and forget the cesspool of contagion that is your kitchen at work if it were me.

Yo, this is $13 on Amazon! Snatch it up before it’s gone!

You will almost certainly look like a construction worker lugging your bulky, plastic job, but it’s better than getting the plague from your hazmat work refrigerator.

Love, Your Aunt Fatty (who is really sensitive to smells or just the thought of smells so she repeatedly dry heaved writing this response, as she imagined how nasty that heathen’s two month old leftovers probably are)

I know ya’ll are a messed up group of people (who isn’t messed up in today’s world?), so get those questions in!

Contact me here, my weirdos!

The Dieting Chronicles of Dumpy von Marshmallow Waist and Duchess McMilkshakes: Week Two

What was your biggest diet disappointment this week?

A: I have several so be patient with me:

1.) A single serving of Oreos according to the WW app is 3 cookies. Just 3.

2.) 3 cookies is 7 (!!) points.

3.) Even though Oreos are vegan, they are in no way healthy.

4.) Try as I might, I am not at my goal weight this week.

5.) I won’t be at my goal weight next week either.

6.) Vegetables still taste like vegetables.

K: On Fridays, along with my coffee, I treat myself to a scone or some other decadent delight from Starbucks. Since I’m counting now, I had to look up how many points the pumpkin scone is. I figured it couldn’t be much more than 15. I mean, it’s pumpkin. Pumpkin is healthy.

I didn’t end up getting the damn pumpkin scone, because it’s 22 mother fucking points. For anyone totally unfamiliar with Weight Watchers, let me paint you a really hideous picture. My daily point allowance is 28 points and my weekly “cheat points” are set at 42.

Because I wanted to eat the rest of the day, I had to pass on the pumpkin scone for the first time in three years of Friday Starbucks cheats.

I died a little inside when the barista, who knows me way too well, said, “You’re not getting your pumpkin scone today?” and I had to make myself say, “No, Alex. Just the coffee.”

What was your biggest diet success or win this week?

A: I know there are people who eat only when they are hungry and stop once they are satisfied, so I won’t break my arm patting myself on the back for a week of eating like a normal person. I am, however, a little proud of the moments I was able to walk away from the treats in the break room. Or, when I walked places I normally would have driven to. Lastly, I’m grateful I didn’t give up the second day when I really wanted to… because I really, really wanted to.

K: I didn’t kill anyone in the name of hunger. That’s all I got.

What is a diet/Weight Watchers injustice you faced this week?

A: I’m not sure if I’d call it an injustice really, but I went to an actual meeting and it was insanely annoying. If you are STILL fatter than me you do not get to tell me how to do this. How ’bout you follow your own advice there, Patty? Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle fat? I’ve decided to keep my interactions very limited from here on out.

K: When reading through the Weight Watchers app for ideas for low point snacks (I was really hoping I’d happen upon a monster brownie only clocking in at two points) I caught an article on FAQs. Let me just share a screenshot:

Fruit, ice (Thanks, WW, for making ice zero points. That’s big of you), and nonfat, unsweetened yogurt are all zero point foods, but, somehow, magically, when they are blended into a smoothie, the smoothie is not zero points.

I am no math whiz, but I’m fairly confident that 0+0+0= MOTHER FUCKING ZERO*.

What is a diet tip or hack you learned this first week?

A: For me this whole weight loss thing can’t be black and white; perfection or failure. Don’t get me wrong, it’s real easy for me to be a stickler for every bite, point, step taken, and to make myself batshit crazy until I give up. In all reality though, I don’t want to live like that. On the flip side, it’s also really easy to eat whatever I want with reckless abandon and then get pissed when my jeans don’t fit. If I am going to make this a true lifestyle change I need to live somewhere in the middle- that grey area where most of my choices are good, but sometimes I eat three donuts for breakfast in the bathtub, and skip the gym all together.

K: La Croix the shit out of your day. Want a bag of M&M’s? FALSE. Drink a La Croix. Feeling like you need a milkshake and a side of fries to dip in said milkshake? FALSE. Your fat ass can drink a La Croix and it can like it.

If you don’t know what La Croix is just imagine a fruit-flavored soda but without any of what makes a soda taste good. That’s La Croix. It’s disgusting, but the skinny bitches drink it, so I’m hoping to be let in on the secret sometime soon.

How about an “ah ha” moment or sudden moment of clarity?

A: Right now my life is an absolute dumpster fire.

This past week, I ended two jobs I LOVED in exchange for a job out of necessity, and it has made my heart so sad. I want(ed) to eat all the things because I needed to feel better, and I did slip a few times:

Me to Katie- “ Sooooo you’re my accountability buddy and here we go. I just used all 26 of my daily points, PLUS 10 exercise points and TWENTY MOTHER FUCKING NINE flex points on dinner because my heart is sad and I hate my life and I miss my mom. That is a 65 point DINNER dude. 65 points. I’m gonna let that sink in for you.”

Yea… that’s real life. But I got back on. I didn’t keep eating everything that didn’t try to eat me first for days upon end. The “aha” in all of this is that I don’t need to be a complete lunatic to make progress in the right direction. I lost 4.6 pounds this week- not a bad start. I just need to be consistent most of the time and be brave enough to get back on when I screw it all up. Perfection isn’t realistic and my goal this week is to spend more time in the grey area. It feels more doable, and there’s Oreos in there.

K: It feels good going to bed not feeling like a fat piece of shit. I mean, I’m still fat, but I feel less “piece of shit”. Some nights, before the Weight Watchers Awakening, I would go to bed right after eating 18 bags of popcorn, an entire pint of Halo Top, and half a watermelon. It’s pretty alright to not feel like my food choices are literally and figuratively choking me out.

What are you struggling with this week? Any fun diet tips for Dumpy and McMilkshake? What would you like to see us cover? Let us know in the comments!

*There are a lot of ‘mother fuckers’ in this post. Excuse our French, we’re just REALLY FUCKING HUNGRY.

Don’t forget to send in your questions to Aunt Fatty here. And, check out the first post here! I’m handing out advice that’s wanted like candy at a Weight Watchers meeting, so you don’t want to miss out!

Free Advice Friday From Your Aunt* Fatty

Dear Aunt Fatty,

I can’t stop eating cake. I eat cake every day. And it’s not just limited to cake – I also eat cookies, donuts, brownies, etc. If I don’t have any cake, I bake some and then I eat it. I just love cake. What should I do?

Thank you,
Have & Eat Cakery

This is me, choking down my raw carrots, reading about your cake “problems”.

Dear Have & Eat Cakery,

Yo, is this a real problem? Cake is not bad. Cake is delicious. I daydream of cake. I real dream of cake. Cake is fucking everything. So, for realsies, I think you’re living your best life.

Evidence:

“I bake some and then I eat it.”

1. You can bake

2. You can eat what you bake because it’s edible

These are not real problems.

Unless you think it’s a problem. Then it’s a problem.

I’m no expert or anything, but I think cake has tons of sugar and no-no flour in it, so if you’re on some kind of diet, I think cake is the opposite of what you’re supposed to eat. I could be totally wrong, though.

If you feel like your cake consumption is a problem, maybe eat half of the cake you normally eat and see if life is worth living with less cake. If you find this is not a sufficient amount of cake and your life has lost all meaning, just eat your normal amount of cake.

I really wish I had your problem right now. I’m going to go cry in my zoodles.

Your Aunt Fatty (who hates you right now, btw)

Dear Aunt Fatty,

Where shall I seek my Soul Mate?

From,

Bunny64

Dear Bunny64,

I wasn’t sure if this was a legit submission as I get all kinds of spam email from my site now that I’m self-hosting, but I figured I’d better help a, uh, bunny out, just in case.

Here’s my philosophy on soulmates. Why don’t you make yourself comfy? Pull up a chair. Make yourself a cup of tea. While you’re at, can you make me one, too?

Your soulmate can always and without any ounce of doubt be found in a perfectly powdered donut. An artfully iced cinnamon roll. Even a plain piece of white toast smothered in Nutella. If you’re not a fan of eating “morning foods”, I guarantee you will find true love in a perfectly crafted chocolate lava cake with melty vanilla bean ice cream on the side. Better add some hazelnut sauce while you’re at it.

People can’t always be relied upon to be someone’s soulmate, but carbs are always, always there for you. Remember that.

Your Aunt Fatty (who really wants a donut now)

Dear Auntie Fatty,


I joined a dating site in order to try to get over a guy, thinking if I had someone new, I could forget my feelings for him. Horrible I know! But then I met someone on there. He’s really sweet and we hit if off. Only thing: I’m still all hung up on this other dude! I can’t drop my very deep feels for him. I was an adult about it and told the sweet guy I had feelings for someone else and that it wasn’t fair to him if I wasn’t honest with him and myself. He was totally cool and wanted to stay friends. That was a few weeks ago, and we still talk a little bit, but he keeps pushing to actually meet (cos we haven’t yet!) and he says “just as friends” and he knows I’m not ready for a relationship. I’ve agreed to meet him now but I’m afraid he’s not really looking at it “just as friends”. What do I do on our meet up to ensure he gets that?! No solid plans yet, either ping pong or maybe just coffee at a bookstore, so these ideas have got to be flexible! 

Sincerely, 
Hardcore Friendzoning

Dear Hardcore Friendzoning,

I know making generalizations about men on dating sites isn’t fair, but what I have personally experienced would scare the bejeezus out of you. If you need a brief mental image of what I am referring to, picture a grown man asking for his diaper changed.

Almost every single guy I met during my brief foray into the terrifying single-and-dating life wanted “more than friends” action.

Also, many were on there, like me, to forget a former lover or relationship. When that is your reason for being on a dating site, it’s kind of blue balling your dude friend. Very few men are just looking for a friendship when they get on a dating site, whether what they want is a committed relationship or just sex.

This is my opinion from what I’ve experienced, personally. Others’ experiences and perceptions may be different.

So, from what I see, you’ve done your part in expressing what your boundaries are in being on the dating site and hanging with him. It’s up to him to respect those. If he doesn’t, you stop interacting with him, or he’s going to end up hurt if he has real feelings for you and you are not ready to reciprocate.

Dating is the epitome of the hard knock life, man. All too often you fall for someone who is pining away for someone else or vice versa.

Because this shit sucks, I suggest you go on a date with Ben & Jerry, because, well, duh.

Otherwise, I’d suggest bowling- it’s the least sexy date you can go on. The shoes look horrific and they smell even worse. Bowling alleys are loud, smelly, and dirty. Finally, unless you’re a professional bowler, all people look awkward bowling. Go bowling.

Your Aunt Fatty (who loves you and just wants what’s best for you)

Dear Aunt Fatty,

JoJo wants me to ask you when we have ice cream and I eat it all, what should she do? Keep in mind that the shit sat there for a whole week before I ate it. Go.

Sincerely,

The Midnight Goose and JoJo

Dear The Midnight Goose and JoJo,

Goose Pal, how are you still alive and well enough to write this email? It doesn’t matter if the ice cream has been in the fridge for over a year and there’s an inch of freezer burn covering the entire carton, YOU DON’T TOUCH YER BOO THANG’S ICE CREAM. I love you, Allen, but, pal, you done wrong (that was a lot of commas, but it had to happen).

My dude once ate my leftover helping of this decadent chicken fettuccine Alfredo I make whenever we are feeling like our arteries ought to be clogged. It’s made with cream cheese, full fat milk, and a buttload of parmesan. I thought about it all day long. I was practically foaming at the mouth by the time I got home. When I discovered his crime, I, legit, didn’t talk to him for a week and two days. He got off easy.

I believe eating your spouse’s/partner’s/dog’s treats they are probably saving for later should be punishable by death.

So, it was nice knowing you, Allen.

Regretfully Yours, Aunt Fatty

I was shocked at the amount of emails I got from ya’ll. I didn’t think this would get the response it has. If you’re reading this, feeling pretty ripped off because your query wasn’t included in this first Free Advice Friday post, fear not, you will be included next week.

Some of your questions were legit issues and I’m still trying to work out the perfect fucked up answer. Some of your issues were pretty damn funny and I’m trying to find out how to be funnier.

So, you gotta wait another week. I really hope I can make the suspense worth it.

Keep sending in those fucked up problems, my weirdos! You can contact me via my Contact Page.

*I don’t want any of you thinking of a crusty, old woman when you read ‘aunt’. Think more young (ish), wildly idiotic when it comes to being an adult, and super cool because she knows what ‘trill’ means (after doing a Google search). Think the kind of cool aunt who takes you to get Pink Drinks and then falls for your wily ways so she buys you, on her almost maxed out credit card, an entire new wardrobe at Target, complete with unicorn earrings. I’m that aunt.

The Dieting Chronicles of Dumpy von Marshmallow Waist and Duchess McMilkshakes*

Ya’ll, the weight loss motivation is finally getting serious up in here! (Right in time for all of the delicious Thanksgiving and Christmas season goodies. Smart.)

I’ve found me a Weight Watchers girlfriend and she’s funny lady, Amanda AKA Duchess McMilkshakes. She doesn’t have a blog yet, but I’m slowly chipping away at her apprehension to put her funny out into the world. For the time being, we are going to collab on a Weight Watchers weight loss adventure.

We each signed up for Weight Watchers (again) and took our ‘before’ photos (that, for the time being, will live in the privacy of our phones and in the minds of our lucky men). We are so ready to take this bitch DOWN.

Well, at least we are ready to not eat cake for breakfast *everyday*.

Because all of you lucky people already know so too much about me (and it’s about to get even more TMI) I’m just going to share Amanda’s bio. But, here’s my selfie in case you forgot what I looked like:

My two chins and my sassy cousin.

Throwback to when my daughter stayed in one spot for more than 10 seconds, and I could get my hair and makeup done. It’s one or the other now and I almost never pick makeup. I’m grateful every single morning for eyelash extensions.

My name is Amanda, and I’m a 36 year old mom to the sweetest angel on the planet, who inadvertently destroyed my bladder and waistline. I’m currently on a mission (with the help of my friend, Katie) to get fit, which hasn’t been easy because I love food and hate exercise. Let’s be honest, I didn’t get this round by eating apples and walking everywhere. Oh, and did I mention that my dude is a chef? Like an actual, classically trained chef who makes delicious food and couldn’t care less how fat I am as long as he gets to see me naked once in a while? It feels insurmountable some days, but I’ve mustered up the courage to give it another shot. This journey isn’t going to be easy, but I’m excited to share it with everyone- the good, the bad, and the funny. Let the hilarity ensue.

I don’t care that there is a mystery period in the middle of the sentence, this meme is our brains on bacon, ya’ll.

Random fun facts:

K: *I’m obnoxiously long-winded. Oh wait, we all knew that already.

*When I was a toddler, I used to get into the splits to stand up. I went on to do gymnastics for several years. You’d never know any of this after seeing me get off the couch or out of bed in the morning, though.

A: *I am 8 months postpartum and I still weigh over two bills. ‘How far over’ you ask? Far enough that I’d need to be seven feet tall for me to have a healthy BMI.
*I have contemplated teaching my baby and or dogs how to tie shoes so that I don’t have to pass out every time I bend over because I can’t fucking breathe.

Why are you losing weight?

A: I want to Beverly Goldberg the shit out of my daughter, and I can’t do that if my heart explodes because I can’t stop putting half and half on my Apple Jacks. Seriously though, you gotta try it.

K: I’m pretty sick of my bingo wings swinging like huge bull balls when I write things on the board at work. I’m really worried one or both might get carried away and knock a kid out one day.

What makes this time different?

A: Honestly, I don’t know if this time will be the magic time I get my shit together and stick to a diet, but I do know that I’m not comfortable settling for elastic waistbands and angled selfies so that only 1.5 chins show. Unfortunately, Snapchat hasn’t made a flower wreath to flatter my waddle, so I need a new plan of action.

K: I’m just gonna be real TMI here. Last weekend, I was getting into the shower. It wasn’t a hair-washing day, so I had my super sexy shower cap on. I look completely and utterly ridiculous in the thing, but it does the job, so I guess I’ll have to accept looking like a beached whale at the salon.

I was leaned down, completely naked, getting the water temperature right. All of a sudden, I hear a noise that sounded exactly like Tina Belcher saying, “Butt”, so, naturally, I figured it was a serial killer who somehow managed to break in in broad daylight while the dude and I were at home. A split second later, I realized it was my boyfriend imitating Tina Belcher and I screamed, “Don’t, you asshole!” and slammed the door in his face.

From the other side of the door comes his voice, “What the hell? I just said ‘butt’. I saw your butt, so I said ‘butt’.”

Yeah, he saw my totally-in-need-of-a-serious-waxing-job butt in the bright light of morning. He probably also noticed my second ass (more on that later) and the fact that my back rolls have back rolls. Thankfully, since my rear end was facing him, he didn’t see my stomach eating my entire lower half.

That’s what I thought in my head. He probably just saw the ass he (for some strange reason) loves, but in my head what he saw was something so frightful, so grotesque, it pissed me off that he snuck up on me when I wasn’t prepared or almost fully clothed and in the dark.

That mental narrative needs to stop.

What was the breaking point? The cherry on top? The straw that broke the camel’s back?

A: Some of the kids in my Pre-K class asked when I’m having my baby. Granted, they’re 4 and 5 years old, but the fact they think I’m 72 weeks pregnant is a real problem.

K: Probably when I saw my second ass for the first time. What is a second ass you ask? Well, it’s a secondary butt within one’s primary butt. Usually, at least in my case, your second ass looks like two chicken cutlets with a bad case of cellulite that have been glued smack dab in the bottom middle part of the dominant ass. I noticed it while I was leaning on the counter brushing my teeth (because that task is really tiring, obvi) and because the full-length mirror was lined up perfectly with the vanity mirror, the stars aligned and- bam- I saw it, clear as day. I always thought I only had one butt.

Biggest irrational diet fear?

A: I believe, wholeheartedly, that being fat is God’s way of keeping me humble. If I were thin, I’d run around in two tassels and a leaf in the middle of winter with zero fucks given. I’m afraid that if I ever get in shape I’m going to have to have my ho phase at 36, with a new baby. It’s not gonna be a good look.

K: My most irrational fear is that I’m going to like this diet thing and turn into someone who prefers bullshit like kale brownies over fried Devil’s food cake donuts. Like, what if I become that annoying person someone made the meme “Just shut up and eat your salad, you whore” about? (I added that last part. I think that meme needed an extra touch of sass.) I can’t become that person. Fatty McSpaghetti Squash just doesn’t have the right ring.

What do you think you’ll miss most when you change your lifestyle?

A: I think I’ll miss the comfort that comes with old habits. Sometimes, the need to feel better outweighs the need to fit into skinny jeans.

K: I’m gonna miss just being a total fool about food. There’s something really freeing about not knowing or caring about how many calories or points something is. As awesome as it is to wake up and know your food plans for the day are limitless, it becomes a problem by the end of the day when you’re eating as much as a running back that does zero running and gets out of breath doing the brownie dishes.

We have some exciting weight loss topics to explore and some insane ideas for fitness in store. Let us know what you want to know more about. What would you like to see us do in the name of getting fit (because we are pretty much down to do anything ridiculous if we can write about it)? How can we embarrass ourselves to help you? Let us know in the comments.

*Amanda found this website where you can find your weight loss name to um…inspire you. If being named Greasy McBacon Thighs doesn’t get someone to eat a salad, I don’t know what will.

Anti-Advice From Aunt Fatty

I was so incredibly blown away by the amount of suggestions I got from my last post (I really thought I’d get next to no responses). One of the suggestions I received touched on an idea that has been swirling in my brain for some time. It being suggested was the impetus to get this ball rolling.

Thank you to See It With Your Own Eyes for suggesting I take questions for an advice column post/series.

The absolute most absurd aspect of this and why I think it *could* be pretty amazing is that it’ll be advice from an utter inept failure of an adult.

It’ll be like anti-advice.

It’ll be the kind of unsolicited advice you might get from your drunk uncle. Most of it’ll be complete nonsensical garbage, but there might be a gem of worldly wisdom hidden amongst the empty pizza boxes and beer cans.

The only way this’ll work, though, is if I get questions from you, my lovely readers.

I think the best way to do this will be to have ya’ll send me a private message via my Contact Page with your question or topic you’re seeking advice on.

You can choose to reveal yourself or be completely anonymous.

If you send me an alarming, tragic, or deeply personal question, it won’t be featured because this is all about being ridiculous and lighthearted (I will talk you through it and be there for you, because even though I may not be a very adulty adult, I’ll never leave anyone in need hanging).

If you submit a question, you agree to my response potentially being stupid/weird and/or not actually helping you with your problem. As such, you understand that I am, by no means, an expert on almost all matters.

I really hope ya’ll are some huge hot messes, in need of some good ol’ anti-advice, because I think this could be something pretty magical.

I’d like to post my first “advice column” on Friday as Aunt Fatty’s Free Advice Friday, so send me those burning questions!

(Also, share the shit out of this. Pretty please.)

I hope to hear from you soon.

Special Request Sunday

Hey, y’all! It’s come to my attention that bloggers ask their readers for suggestions on content they’d like to read and their readers actually give them some great ideas and feedback.

I never thought to do this.

I mean, this could epically fail and no one will want to suggest anything. Maybe someone might even say, “That ain’t my job to tell you, the writer what to write *insert eye roll*.” Or, this could get awesomely weird and entertaining.

Sundays are my chores-and-dread-Monday days, so save me from that sad existence with some special requests or content you’d like to see more of here at Fatty McCupcakes.

I’d insert a poll, but I don’t know how and I’m too lazy to figure it out. Honesty is the best policy…

Some themed days and other content I’ve done past and present are:

WTF Wednesday

Travel Tuesday (or Thursday depending on how much I don’t have my shit together)

Storytelling of various epic family adventures and fails

Rants and Ramblings

Stories about the many different ways I’m inept at life

Other Bullshit

So, if you are also procrastinating cleaning your toilet today, let me know in the comment section what you’d like to read more of here. If you want to suggest something privately, send me a direct message via my contact page.

Can’t wait to hear from ya’ll!

Picture of caramel apple for attention

Those Elko Feels

Elko 2
Fall means I think of Elko. A smell, the orange color of the leaves, a vivid memory, or just a fleeting thought ignites a chain reaction of intense longing. It happens every so often and when it does, it nearly cripples me for a brief, cathartic moment.
Elko is a place I had a love-hate relationship with for many years. Now, I just long for it in my bones.

It can’t be explained by one key event or moment. It was a series of moments, feelings, awakenings. It was carried by the electrically charged breeze during a thunderstorm. It was kicked up and then settled, into the cracks and crannies of my brain, like the dirt from the road. It came to me, pungent, in through the window, smelling of wet sagebrush and desert. It was changing oak leaves in the fall. The smell of coffee and wet pavement. It was the green hills in the spring. The thick, silent snowflakes in the winter. It was stillness. Jackrabbits. The moon and the stars. It was fresh, plump grapes. Fried chicken and biscuits. It was peace. Sleep. Renewal. It was far away, twinkling lights, signaling home. It was something, somewhere, everything, always. It was Elko.

WTF Wednesday: Blogging Truth Bombs and Beefs

It’s about to get beef bomby up in here, so prepare yourselves. Depending on how you interpret that, you could be feeling very different things right now.

Blogging, ya’ll. What is it even?

I’ve mentioned a time or 10 how I’m a writer who just so happens to use the blogging platform to get my writing “out there”. As such, I’m by no means an expert on the topic. However, I’ve been doing the grunt work long enough to have noticed a few things.

Ready? Let’s go!

1. The “Market” is Saturated

Ya’ll, we’re all just one of millions. Literally millions. There are millions of blogs on the interwebs. If you are doing this blogging thing to be noticed; if you’re blogging to earn money; if you’re writing on the blogging platform to get your writing read and/or to be found, GOOD LUCK.

I’m not saying that sarcastically either. I really mean it. You’re going to need some serious luck of the Irish or some other historically magical luck to distinguish yourself in a major way.

I’ve had many discussions with fellow bloggers on this topic, and the general consensus is that bloggers who have ended up rich and famous started blogging and writing smack dab in the middle of the sweet spot of the Blogging Leads to Fame and Fortune era.

There are plenty (actually a fuck ton) of bloggers who make income from their blog via affiliate links, advertising, and utilizing SEO like bosses, but I’m not referring to them here. I’m talking about bloggers who have used their blogging platform to become extremely well known, published authors a la Jenny Lawson (The Bloggess) or Allie Brosh.

So, if blogging is just a step in the direction of your ultimate goal of being a published writer, just get to writing on your book, baby.

I used to actually, and don’t laugh when you read this, think I’d be “discovered” because of my blog. I know, embarrassing, right? The reality is, though, among millions of other bloggers vying for readership, I’m just another asshole who thinks my blog is going to become famous. Learn from me, just write the damn book.

2. They’ll Help You, But For a Price

If you are currently blogging about blogging or offering e-courses on SEO, rock on with your bad self. Anyone smart enough to monetize where the gettin is good is money goals in my mind.

That doesn’t make the bad feeling I have about this business go away, though.

Whenever I wish to educate myself on monetizing options for my blog, I usually click on a blog post about SEO or affiliate links and I’m lead down a veritable rabbit hole of advertisements, newsletter pop ups, and the promise I’ll turn my lame blog around just so long as I sign up for an e-course or I pay an un-godly amount of money to receive consultation on my brand. This inevitably reminds me of all the times I was dumb enough to invest in and try to sell Mary Kay or Scentsy or dōTERRA.

They get you with the promise of a “nominal” fee and the insistence that you’ll be CEO of the business in “no time”.

It’s the same thing with blogging courses and blog consultations. Maybe you will learn something and be successful like them or maybe you won’t, because remember- there are millions of others doing the same exact thing as you.

I’m not saying these courses are all crap or the people offering them are part of some pyramid scheme, but what I am saying is nothing in the blogging world is free or guaranteed. Be savvy about how and where you invest your money, especially if you started your blog as a hobby and you are literally making zero money doing it.

3. The Dumbing Down

I don’t care if this isn’t a fact- or researched-based opinion, because what I see with my pretty perceptive eyes is that a huge amount of people on this planet are dumb as fuck.

The kinds of things that go viral all over social media are quick and easy to read memes, gifs, funny videos, and graphics. Don’t get me wrong, I love a good meme or gif. In fact, I can entertain myself for an embarrassingly long amount of time just scrolling through funny bullshit on Facebook, Instagram or Pinterest. But, I fear that this is the limit to many people’s attention spans or interests- a pretty picture or easy to read snippets of information.

When you’re a writer, you put blood, sweat, and tears into content for people on the internet to (hopefully) read, but many just click onto your post to watch the funny gif and then they leave.

I have heard/read the words, “People just aren’t reading blogs as much anymore” far too often in the last year.

I think it’s true. And, I think people are choosing to read an eight word meme over your 800 word post because it’s quicker and easier.

4. The Balance

Probably one of the hardest aspects of being a blogger is finding the time to keep up with the blogs I follow. Not only do I want to read them, it’s also nice to comment, like and, perhaps, even share on various social media outlets. I mean, I want other people to do the same for me, so I can’t not return the love.

This is where things become a precarious balancing act.

When I have to decide between 20+ blog posts to read during my rushed 20 minute lunch, I either read only one or two or I skim read them all.

I don’t have an endless amount of time to read blogs, as much as I’d love to be able to do that all the time (how glorious of a career would Professional Blog Reader be?). Yet, I hope others will have the time to read my blog.

It’s such a crazy, fucked up thing, and I’m sure I’m not alone in this balancing act. It’s like we’re all saying, “I don’t have time to read your blog, but read mine, mmmkay?”

But, if we all do that, though, no one will read any blogs. And then, the blogosphere will implode, and all of our hard work will die a terrible death.

I’m still working on how to read all of my favorite blogs and sleep…

5. The Like vs. Traffic Debate

How much traffic your blog receives is only revealed to you, unless you wish to share it. However, how many likes your post gets and the amount of quality comments at the end of your post is viewable and it means something.

I mean, it should mean something.

To me, likes and comments are like passport stamps from the visitors of your blog. They are trophies. They are getting the gold.

The more likes and comments I get, the prouder I feel about my post and how it was received by my readers.

Likes and comments are also a visual to new visitors that make me look more credible as an established blogger. As much as you don’t want to accept this fact, we all know you’re secretly ashamed of that post you did last year that only garnered two likes and zero comments. At least, that’s how I feel about that asshole post…

That said, this is how I measure the success of my posts. Not everyone is the same. Many people consider traffic to their blog to be more important and that’s just fine, especially if they’re monetizing. In that case, traffic is the gold.

The great thing about blogging is that it can literally be and mean anything to you. Find value where you wish.

If you’re new to blogging or you are just not seeing the amount of likes or comments on your posts that you’d like, assess how welcoming you are to visitors. Does it take you a week to respond to a comment? Do you not respond in a way that keeps the discussion going? Are your responses pretty canned? If you answered ‘yes’ to any of these questions, you need to up your commenting game.

Also, asking a question that is related to your post topic, like, “What do you think the little hole in the crotch of Spanx is for?” (that’ll really get ’em talking) can help facilitate discussion in the comment section.

I could go on. There’s so much more I can say about my blogging beefs and truths, but I think this is more than enough for now.

Blogging isn’t all sunshine and rainbows, so spill it. What grates on your nerves. What annoys you the most? Let it out, babes.