If it fits, buy it.

Everyone will probably be surprised to hear I failed the The Fatness™ Ten Pounds in Two Weeks Challenge. (Failed miserably, I might add.) But I can carry on with Bringing AnorSEXYa Back, and I will, even if I never achieve the popular emaciated waif-look I covet. Never fear, dear readers, I will continue to chronicle my adventures and misadventures as The Fatness™ in a world meant for The Skinny™.

Part of Bringing AnorSEXYa Back has been a futile attempt to take better care of myself and put forth an effort regarding my appearance. It’s way too easy for me to glance in the mirror after my morning shower and shudder with disgust before looping my hair up into a wet, slicked-back ponytail, throwing on as inoffensive a t-shirt I can find, and scampering off to work in a pair of pants I believe disguises how fat I really am. My motivation behind this look is that I’m not attractive, so why should I make a fool of myself trying to be attractive? Joe Schmoe will just laugh behind his hand at my attempt at good looks, and then he’ll be distracted by someone who is The Skinny™, forgetting the waste of five seconds he spent glancing in my direction.

But what if I never achieve The Skinny™? What if (and I completely don’t believe this, but I’m putting it down anyway) my friends and family are right, and I’m not the hideous beast I’ve been trying to hide behind baggy t-shirts and fat pants? What if I can look good without being The Skinny™? To start off this test, I went a week without wearing a t-shirt to work. I succeeded, and my interest in real clothing carried into the weekend. Another week passed without t-shirts as my main staple (except for an evening of hiking and a Saturday morning workout), and while I highly doubt anyone has noticed, I don’t feel as slovenly as before. I’m also putting forth an effort with my hair, blow drying it even though the intense heat of the blow dryer following the warm and toasty shower/bath makes me puke a little in my mouth. (There was even an episode with curlers I don’t wish to talk about.) I don’t look good, but I do look something.

Then, as if a lightening bolt was sent down from the heavens to ruin my fun, I tore my famous khaki pants. I tore the hell out of them, too, and I now know why so many pants have stretch to them. In my defense, I was choreographing some dancey-dance to Sufjan Stevens’s “John Wayne Gacy,” and I normally would have changed before busting out the showstopping dance numbers, but I was so cute in my khaki pants with the rolled up bottoms and my green and white shirt I didn’t have to wear a bra with that I didn’t bother. I paid the price, though, because when you’re dealing with The Fatness™ any shopping is excruciatingly painful, especially shopping for pants, and most of those of us who suffer from The Fatness™ only have a few good pairs of trusty pants we feel less fat in, and fewer still we feel comfortable in.

I bit the bullet, though, and packed myself off to Gap late yesterday afternoon. I spent WAY too much money, but The Fatness™ often causes you to buy more than you really want if you find something that fits well and looks halfway decent. I was able to sort of replace my dearly departed khaki pants (sadly no more rolled up bottoms to show off my cankles and help tan flip-flop lines onto my feet) with pants so wonderful I bought another pair in a color that may be brown or may be dark gray (Gap has installed trick lighting in their stores so that nothing you buy matches and you have to come back and spend even more money fixing the mistake). I also found some jeans I could live with, finally, as I have been wanting to find another pair for months now (my pair du jour is ridiculously close to getting a hole in the crotch from all the wear and tear of The Fatness™). I do want to know why a size 12 fit me fabulously in the pair I bought, but when I threw on the size 12 curvy pair, it was sausage factory time. It seems if you’re going to put a little ease in your jeans, you might want to put the most in your curvy style, because that’s the one all the fat girls are going to be aiming for. (Unless this is another Gap trick like their store’s lighting, and by making the fat girls buy their fat girl jeans in one or two sizes bigger than they think they wear they’ll get depressed, go home and lose weight, then have to come back to buy new clothes.) I picked up two shirts as well, because I wanted another color in a shirt I already have, and I found a shirt that looks like it matches my brown/dark gray pants (it won’t when I try to wear it in a few days).

It’s tough, this part of Bringing AnorSEXYa Back, but if I’m going to all the trouble to restrict my calories, workout, and dutifully record my weight every morning in dry erase marker on the bathroom mirror, I suppose I can’t slink around in my craptastic clothes with my craptastic hair. I hope this sort of work is easier if you’re The Skinny™, because it most certainly isn’t fun if you suffer from The Fatness™.

And you know what else?

I was able to get through the whole week without wearing a t-shirt, and I’m actually wearing a dress right now, even though it’s Friday and I didn’t have to go to work.

I also weighed in at 160.0 pounds this morning, which means that even though I’ll miss my goal of ten pounds for The Fatness™ Ten Pounds in Two Weeks Challenge or Bringing AnorSEXYa Back, I’m am definitely on the path to greatness (and by that I mean anorSEXYa).

So eat it, News Goat.

As if one challenge wasn’t enough…

Since I’ve been so ridiculously successful with The Fatness™ Ten Pounds in Two Weeks Challenge, I’ve decided to take on another challenge. This one isn’t nearly as exciting, though. I’m just going to see if I can go an entire week without wearing a t-shirt. That may seem silly and trivial to you, but a large part of my wardrobe consists of t-shirts, basically because they’re one of the few items that doesn’t make me feel like my back fat is showing. (I want to point out, because it has been pointed out to me, that what I think is backfat really isn’t. I’m just super paranoid AND have body dysmorphic disorder, so I’m convinced that I have the back fat, and that everyone notices the back fat, and that everyone who notices the back fat immediately thinks, “Gee, that girl has a lot of back fat. She should be wearing a loose t-shirt to cover that up so the rest of the world doesn’t have to look at it!”) So I’ve decided, in keeping with my goal to be a better person–Wait, no, I never made such a goal. That’s a lie. I just want to be a skinnier person. A skinny person. Not really skinnier, just skinny. Period. And I’m rambling.

Anyway. Today I opted for a close relative to the t-shirt, a Gap t-shirt made out of that soft, thin material that feels like it’s been washed a million and two times. It also has a v-neck, showing off my super sexy white camisole (with a built in bra, because Mom came to the rescue and brought me new white camisoles when she visited, since I can find none here and my old ones are wearing out), which further divorces it from the t-shirt genre. Oh, and there’s a tiny pocket. I’m not a fan of tiny pockets, because I don’t think of pockets as asthetically pleasing, and there really isn’t any function in regards to a tiny pocket. I always think of them as condom pockets, because that’s really the only thing they’re big enough for. Unfortunately designers seem to love the tiny pocket, or at least they love putting tiny pockets on shirts and pants I would wear if they didn’t have a tiny pocket on them, so my wardrobe has been infested by a variety of tiny pockets over the years. It isn’t that I want to wear things with the tiny pocket, I just can’t help it.

We’ll see if I can keep this challenge up. With the roll I’m on, who knows what I’m capable of.