When people ask to touch my belly, I never turn them down. The way I figure it, I only have a few more days where they will touch the bump and say, “Awwwwwww…..” Instead of “Ewwwwww….. Dude, seriously, sick! What did you eat today, pasta dipped in chocolate?” Why yes I did, friend. YES I DID.

On Tuesday nights I watch the Biggest Loser. Like every other overweight person in America, I used to watch it because it was so inspiring. But somewhere along the line, the show decided that it wanted to be, you know, successful– and it started to be drama instead of inspiring. Many other decent shows have gone down this path (Montel Williams, I’m looking at you).

Sometimes I imagine that I am on the Biggest Loser. I would be on the purple team, because purple is my favorite, and I would one hundred percent be a game player. Oh yeah, for sure. That would be me. For real– why else quit your job for five months to go on TV? Save yourself some money by taking off one day a week and getting a personal trainer. If you’re going to go on national television, snot flying, tears running down your treadmill, puking all over Jillian Michaels– who could probably bench press my husband– you might as well throw in some Johnny Rotten action and be a memorable character.

I think I’d be one of those people who start out by saying that they’ve always been overweight. Which, of course, is not true. I think in high school I was a size 12. In high school, though, having big boobs and a few curves technically means that you are overweight. Actually, in high school, being a girl technically means that you are overweight. Being a girl who has a little sister who has never weighed more than 100 lbs in her life technically means that you are morbidly obese.

One of my goals in my adult life is to never take myself as seriously as I did as a teenager. One of the only perks to growing up is that you have more and more memories to sift through and realize how hilarious your life has been.

Here is what I would suck at the most if I were on Biggest Loser. I could lose some weight, sure. But I don’t think Jillian getting in my face would work out so well. Because I don’t have some big reason lurking DEEP DEEP DOWN that we need to decode to figure out WHY I am overweight. I’ll tell you straight out: Mama’s overweight because Mama loves her some food. Mama’s overweight because Mama HATES her some exercise.

The last time I had to exercise was for an online Phys Ed course I took last semester. I hadn’t taken Phys Ed since 10th grade. 10th grade. And really? That’s not exercise. Unless you count the mental strain of getting naked with 12 giggling girls every day, knowing you were the first in the class to get boobs and the last in your class to get a boyfriend.

In this online class, there was only one time that I had to actually do some exercise. This is because we had to get our heart rate up to a certain level and then answer questions about it, and I couldn’t figure out a way to fake it that would be quicker than just doing it.

Dude. It was lame.

I ran up and down my steps a few times, got my heart rate up, and then sat down at my computer COMPLETELY pissed off. Who the hell enjoys this? I actually had a violent reaction to the exercise– a violent reaction to the world’s tiniest amount of exercise. If Jillian put me on her treadmill, I think I’d end up murdering someone.

Here is the other thing I wouldn’t be able to do if I were on the Biggest Loser. As much as I don’t take myself seriously, I would not be able to take these people seriously. I know that there is therapy in crying; I know that being broken first sometimes makes it easier to put yourself back together. But dude. There’s therapy in laughter, too. If I were on the Biggest Loser, I’d sit us all down around a bowl of apples or something and talk about how funny it is to be the fat kid sometimes.

I’ve done a lot of crying in my life… and it helped. But until I learned to laugh at myself, laugh at my circumstances, picture myself as a caricature… that’s when I really started to be able to let things go.

I walked down the aisle in a size 18W dress. I felt totally beautiful. The next day I wore my husband’s triple XL shirt to bed and felt totally gorgeous. I wish that more people could be happy in their skin.

Maybe I would be okay on the Biggest Loser. I could be like a cheerleader. I’d go and give everyone a hug and smile at them a lot. That’s my best contribution to anything.


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