About an Ass...

Ok, so I'm really NOT fat. But really it's all relative. Ok, it's partially about my relatives. In my family, we have a long and glorious history of alcoholics. We also have a long and glorious history of fat people. I don't know how far back that history goes, but I do know that every person in my Mom's family has at some point or another been on a fucking diet. Growing up, my mother was always dieting. It was chronic. It was crazy. She would eat all kinds of crazy shit, including this soup which was just broth, cooked chicken and french cut green beans. I still shudder at the thought of this. My dad is another story. He was a beanpole when he married my mom, but within a few months of marrying started to get bigger and bigger from her cooking. My dad loves hamburgers and tubs of cottage cheese. This has not helped. He also has a painfully sedentary lifestyle - his hobby is TV watching, no lie. He can watch TV better than anyone I know. He lost a ton of weight - and I mean a ton - at one point while he was married to his second wife. He looked great and felt great. Then he met my current step mom, who couldn't care less about his appearance and it all went to hell. I now have a tough time thinking about his health. Who knows what will happen. He retains water like crazy, has high blood pressure and has no idea what exercise is. I love him, but is scares me. So, basically, all my life I've been paranoid about being fat.

I was thin as a rail when I graduated from high school. I went to modeling school my senior year of high school and was already so thin and then they put me on a "diet". This seems like it might be a bad thing, considering I was so fucking skinny David Bowie could have beaten me up, but it turned out to be a good thing. I really started to curb my junk food intake, stopped drinking Coke all the time and started eating better and drinking water. I even lost some weight, which was creepy, but I felt better not consuming massive amounts of waxy little debbie snack cakes. Then summer came and I had little to no time to think about eating. I worked constantly and found myself picking tidbits out of the bar garnish tray at the comedy club I worked at. I probably ate more cocktail olives that summer than I have in all of the martinis I've ever comsumed. Blech.

Then came college. Holy Shit! Three meals a day and if you didn't eat them "you were getting screwed". That's a Jim Morrison quote :) So, I ate them. I was not used to eating three regular meals and the next thing I knew, my lithe ethereal body became a fat lump of hugosity. I put on at least 25 pounds, 10 of which I probably needed. It was a horrible experience. I didn't know what to do. Where there was no ass, there was an ass. It was large and wide and I was sad and horrified that I was on my way to being like the rest of my family...

Well, I have to run. I'll finish my ass epistle tomorrow....ciao!