It has been quite a while since I last posted, and I know that there have been rumors of “Oh, Fatty’s fallen off the wagon (wheel)!” and “I knew she couldn’t do it!”. Well. No need to be rude. Fat people still have feelings!
Over the past couple of months, I have had my SIL’s family stay, the planning stages of a complete restructure at work (yes, it is unbelievable that someone would hire this mammoth of a woman! I guess my sparkling personality and hilarious jokes are worth my pay cheque!), my mother’s wedding <3, dramas with my BH’s job and the general day to day irritations of being an overweight blonde city girl.
So, to update you on the past month or so, I had Halloween dress ups at work (we dress up a lot… It’s a fun job!) and while I wanted to dress as a petite little Tinker Bell, I hadn’t yet lost enough weight, and had horrible images of looking like the love child of Kermit the Frog and Sally Struthers. Not. Hot. So I channeled my inner goth, and went as Morticia Addams. I thought I had lost a bit of weight around the boobie area, but every single man kept saying: “Oooh! Elvira! Great costume!”. I guess maybe my shirt was a little low cut…….
The Melbourne Cup was next, and I wore a cute (but professional) dress to work. I had heard an urban myth circling my weight loss group, but was skeptical… Until…… Let me start from the beginning.
I currently share an office with my Managing Director. He is a lovely guy, and we spend a lot of time joking and laughing. And working (if he happens to read this). This particular day, I reached for a folder and felt a fresh breeze across my buttocks. Unusual. I looked down, and to my complete horror, my underwear had migrated south, and were dangerously close to heading into Cankle Territory. JESUS CHRIST!
Had it not been for the fact that it was “washing day” and I was wearing those undies that used to be cute and lacy, but are now grey from too many washes and are barely held together from the elastic now masquerading as dental floss, AND that my boss was offsite at a meeting, I am sure I would have been done for sexual harassment*.
The moral of the story is, even though you don’t HAVE to wear stockings anymore…. It is probably a good idea to do so. And buy some new undies.
The last event was my mothers wedding – or “THE EVENT OF THE YEAR”, if you will. I had purchased my dress while I was still grossly obese, and as I had shrunk it began looking nicer and nicer. Maybe it is my reverse-body-dysmorphic-disorder, but I think I looked quite nice!
The wedding was absolutely wonderful, my mother looked stunning and the food was DELICIOUS! Ha! Tricked you! I can’t eat any “normal” food.
I was so busy on the day that all I could do was gobble down a Cohen Friendly hamburger pattie whilst bending over to reduce the chances of dripping burger juice on my dress and hiding behind the boot of the car so the other guests didn’t notice me being a freak.
A realisation that came from the wedding, however, was that I am waaaaaaaaaaaaay out of practice for rejecting men’s advances, as I have not been hit on in FOR. EVER.
Unfortunately it was a drunken member of my new step-father’s family, (hey, even though he was blind drunk, I was still picked up. I’ll take whatever I can get these days!) who wanted to dance all night and take photos with me. I had to keep reminding him that “We are family now!” and pointing him in the direction of some other not so related guests. Good times!
*Just kidding. I work in the film industry. We don’t have any rules or laws against Sexual Harassment. In fact, it is highly encouraged!