Does anybody read these?

Monday, August 16, 2010


First off, I want to apologize to all of my friends at home, because this is not a post about one of the gateways to Ohio from our youth.

No, this is about the virtue, temperance, which is defined as "moderation in action, thought or feeling; restraint."

As many of you have figured out by now, I cook and bake when I am stressed out. And let's briefly recap my life as of late: I might have cancer. I am broke again until payday. Even if those things weren't sufficient, I am sure there are plenty of other things that are stressing me out. Needless to say, lots of yummies have come out of my kitchen lately. And trying new recipes really does help me feel better. Believe it or not, frosting cupcakes keeps my mind off biopsies and overdue bills. And, frosting doesn't cost anything, because it's just butter and powdered sugar anyhow.

A few weeks ago, one of my co-workers had a birthday, and she wanted me to make her some cupcakes. So I made some super-yummy strawberry lemondade cupcakes. Well, people liked those and another coworker suggested that I make some margarita cupcakes. So, I did.

I didn't go around the office shoving cupcakes down anyone's throats, but I did bring them in so that people who either appreciated my cooking or just wanted a treat. What was I going to do with 20 cupcakes at home?

Well, I mentioned to one of my co-workers (the one who pouted about not getting one of the birthday cupcakes) that I made them and they were down in the fridge if she wanted one.

Not only did she say she didn't want one, but she went on for about 15 minutes about how fat she was. And then later in the day, she told me she looked at my cupcakes and they looked really pretty but she really hoped I was taking them home with me because everyone at work was on a diet and I didn't really need to be bringing foods that would tempt them.

Once again, I did not stuff a single cupcake down a single person's pie hole.

My biggest issue is not this person's (constant) complaining or her hatred of my baked goods.

My problem is that she weighs 140 pounds. Might be a size 12. Maybe.

And all the time, she bitches and moans about how fat she is.

I don't know if any of you have noticed, but I am fat. I am bariatric surgery candidate fat. And, frankly, I am sick and tired about people who have no idea what fat is bitching and moaning about being fat. It pisses me off a little.

And, more importantly, it hurts my feelings. A LOT. Because if you weigh 140 pounds, and you think you are the most disgusting person on the face of the planet, what do you think about me?

Words hurt. They hurt more than daggers. Haven't we always been taught that? So, why don't people like that think before they speak?

It's bad enough that we hate our bodies and base our self-worth on a number on the scale, but please, before you talk about how gross and disgusting you are because you're five pounds overweight, think about how the person who is 50 or more pounds overweight must feel.

It makes me want to shove cupcakes down your throat.

And hit you. But, unlike you, I'm working on having a little temperance, so I won't.

0 comment(s):

Post a comment

<< Home