Heavy Heathey

It has been brought to my attention by several readers that the name of this blog, "The Histrionics of a Fat Housewife" is a misnomer. Not the "histrionics" part. Oh, no. There will always be plenty of that as long as I'm around. Everybody knows that. It's the term "fat" that is causing the disturbance in readerland. So, in the interest of full disclosure and exposure, I will tell you all that I am no longer FAT.

Yep. You read that right. I lost over 50 lbs during the last year and not only do I not fit into the obese category on the doctors' charts, I fit into a size 6 pants. Before you men out there get excited and you women out there feel duped, let me also tell ya that I do NOT look anywhere near good, nor would I dare even look into the mirror scantily clothed. Having babies, at least with my body, permanently puts me in the very jiggly category. I have at least ten, if not another twenty extra pounds on me that I may or may not ever lose.

To those of you who can have their prebaby body back, well, all I have to say to you is phooey. I don't know how you got your Motherhood Club card, but it should be revoked. I know it is written somewhere that you need at least two sagging body parts and just one stretch mark to carry the card. If you cannot come up with the minimum requirements, then forget about it. Your mothering skills just cannot be all that. Not if you are looking that good. So sayeth the Great Heather! Oh, and that includes you Hollywood types. Nothing but a bunch of skinny ass bitches naming their kids jacked up names like Apple and Roman... ummm... no... uh... Coco. Anyway, again I digress. An ADD flare up.

So. Back to the former fatty. No, I didn't diet. People ask all the time how I did it. Well, I'm here to tell you that that crazy fuck Dr. Atkins was really onto something big. He was to low fat/low calorie diets what Christopher Columbus was to flat earth theories. And I firmly believed I was going to fall off the face of the diet. But I didn't. This damn way of eating is like a miracle to me.

WARNING! WARNING! SERMON AHEAD! GRAB YOUR RICE CAKES AND BAKED POTATOES AND HEAD FOR THE HILLS IF YOU FIRMLY BELIEVE THAT EATING LOW FAT IS GOING TO MAKE YOU THIN. And then give me a call because I think there are some WMDs in Iraq that the Bush's would like to sell you.

I eat all kinds of really good food with reckless abandon and I lose weight. Sure, I have to cut some things out of my life. Bread, potatoes, most pasta and rice, sugary desserts (some are replaceable with Splenda, however). But what do I make it up with? Ribeyes with garlic butter and bleu cheese. Caesar salad (minus the croutons). Deviled eggs. Brussel sprouts with bacon. Broccoli with butter. Cucumbers with real ranch dressing. Oh, I could go on and on. My food choices are as endless as they are delicious.

Oh, and have I mentioned I'm a size SIX? Of course, this fantastic phenomenon of sizes getting smaller in number but actually increasing in girth has helped me tremendously, too. In fact, I believe if I stay the exact same weight I am now, in five years time I will be a size 0. Those out there who are truly thin need to brace themselves for the negative numbers. I can see it now. Mary Kate diets to be a size -12. Nice. Very nice.

To me, though, it doesn't matter what size I am. I am not going to change the name of my blog. No, I will eternally stay "The Fat Housewife." Why? Well, the answer is simple. I've heard many a fat person claim to have a thin person inside them. "I joined Weight Watchers so that thin person inside of my will show through." Or, "I lost 88 pounds on Jenny Craig and now people see the real me."

I am not one of them. I am a fat person. Inside of me, there is a fat person. Whether you can see that person on the outside or not. Perhaps she's hidden. In the attic. With crazy Aunt Eunice who thinks she's a Japanese geisha. That fat me is always there. I will be a fat person regardless of my weight or size. It is simply who I am. I am fat. Fat. Fat. Fat. And I like it that way. Fat people are a wicked riot, with infectious, uncontrollable laughter. Fat people are a fucking blast. Fat people can drink thin people under the table. Fat people have hearts as big as their waists. I prefer fat people. So there it is.

To those of you who take exception to my use of the label, let me assure you that I will again one day be technically obese. I assure you of it. Now, please, let me be. I am off to go finish my second tub of Ben and Jerry's for the day.

[Post Script: I wrote this post several weeks ago, but never posted it. Yes, I do this all the time. My blog is overrun with posts that I've written but never posted. This one, however, needed to be posted. For several reasons. The first being, I needed to explain to those that knew I had lost weight why I was keeping the name. Secondly, I needed to tell those that might not already know that I am no longer technically fat.

And third, and this is the part that cracks me up the most, I have gained just over 10 pounds in the two months I have been here. Who the fuck was the genius that decided to send me, a devout low carber, to the land of white rice and all things starchy? Huh? Who the hell... oh... yeah... my overweight husband. Now I remember. It is starting to sound a little suspect to me. Conspiracy!!!

So there it is. I had to lay down this morning to zip up my jeans. And then I spent the rest of the day panting, little breaths in and out, to keep from passing out from lack of oxygen. And I threw out all my fat jeans. None left. Check out the big brains on the big butt, eh? Didn't stop me from feeding my face, either. I ate. But I did stick to low carb. Didn't even have a piece of Mike's birthday cake.

Yeah, but that inner fat me, she's fighting it. She's trying. We'll see. She just might make a comeback!]