chubbywomanI’ll be the first to admit it. I’m fat.

It has been a slow and steady journey towards the 200lbs mark, but I have my reasons. Reasons best shared in a support group, not here with you fine folks.

Most have been very understanding of my weight gain. There isn’t usually much talk of it, unless I address the issue.  I’m dealing with it – end of story.

I married into a family of very small, petite people. My husband, standing at 6’1 is an anomaly. When the women in his family pork up, they see the scale soar to 110 lbs. I weighed that in grade 6.

Prior to my pregnancy I was a runner and fit in a size 10. Not too big, not to small. During my pregnancy, one abundant in chocolate milk and skinny vanilla decaf lattes, my mother in law started to buy me maternity clothes. If you know anything about maternity clothes, you buy the size that you were pre-bump. Size 10? Yup, size 10 maternity clothes.

She started with 14’s, before she hit the plus sized market.  “It’s ok”, I thought, “to her I look super extra-large”.

And truthfully I was well on my way.

The baby was born and I lost the entire 10lbs that the baby weighed.  Then, it began. It was a post pregnancy parade of XL pajama bottoms, old lady fleece sweaters with the 1X stamped proudly on the specialty store labels, plus sized exercise clothing, and finally, at Christmas, an XXXL sweater set.

Horrified I told my husband to tell her to stop.  Certainly there were a million freaking items for her to buy me that didn’t reflect my changing size. I couldn’t stand imagining my 5’ tall mother in law standing in the plus sized department eyeballing a pair of jeans trying to figure out  how big my ass was, exactly.

(Earrings people! Buy earrings! Ears don’t fucking grow.)

Deep breath…I’m getting worked up here.

At some point since the holidays my husband must have taken this to heart and had a talk with her.  This past weekend was my birthday,  and  he was happy to announce, pre-celebration, that she had bought me some camping gear as a gift.  A sleeping bag + folding lawn chair. No triple X fleece sets….I was thrilled!

After cake, she passed the goods over proudly.  I graciously accepted this very generous gift.  And then….as I stood there with a big ass grin on my face, feeling as though the weight had been lifted off of my shoulders, she explained why she got the chair….







I can hate her now, right?



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  1. Yes. Yes you can totally hate her. I’d also recommend putting HER in the chair, folding it up and putting it in storage.

  2. Turn the tables and give her a tube of vagisil or a paper bag. She sucks but trust me, you don’t want my MIL. Think underwear.

  3. I can’t believe that anybody could be this mean! Start planning her mother’s day present for next year…

  4. Umm…rude! Too bad you can’t punch her skinny ass out next time she hands you such a lovely “gift”.

  5. You could return the “favor” and buy her things from the kid’s section? Turnabout is fair play and everything, right? I’d like to see the bitch put her skinny ass into a pair of carebear shorts and rock a hello kitty tee.

  6. Oh. My. Well, when the chair folds up on her you can have the last laugh. You’re gorgeous, inside and out. Thanks for the laugh!


  8. Hate away! Next Christmas, I would get her a pack of poise or even a potty chair, for beside her bed. Ooo you could even get the fisher price one that sings when you pee in it, with toilet paper roll. Tell that is when you put your sh**, not in my gift bag.

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