Monday, December 05, 2011

Feast of Eden

Dear Fat,

I started jogging again.  It was... uncomfortable.  Fortunately my playlist had several Pokemon songs on it, so I was super pumped to keep going.  I want to be the very best--like no one ever was.  You know the deal.

Uggggggggggh.... I ate too much today. I was cold after running and found a tube of biscuits in the fridge.  After braving the terror of popping it open, I immediately ate 3.  HOW?!  Daaaaaaaaaaaaah... food... stop jumping into my body.... Body... stop stuffing food into me.

Is it cheating to link to a Cracked article that sums up my running issues?  Really?  Too bad.

Jogging makes me so tired.  Like so tired.  SO tired.  So. Tired.

So tired.

I think I'm turning into a fob.  I'm not sure how; it might have something to do with the fact that I don't really talk during the day so the language center in my brain is shutting down.  Or who knows, maybe my dream of being a fob is finally coming true.  (I hope it's the second one!)  Here are a few sample conversations tracking my metamorphosis:

-On jogging-
"I like jogging in the morning because it's cold and I overheat really easily.  If I jog when the sun isn't out, I don't have to wear sunglasses and I also don't turn into a fiery inferno of death."
"You like jogging in the dark?"
"No, not the dark.  But just when the sun isn't all the way out.  You know, like... in the twilight of morning..."
"Yes.  That's the word for it.  There's a word."

-On becoming a fob-
"I think I'm turning into a fob.  I can't talk anymore and my word choices are weird.  Sometimes it's hard... to like form sentences... completely."
"It's hard to form complete sentences?"
"Shut up."

That's all for now. I have to go add sequins, lace, and shoulder pads to everything I own now.  I totes need a complete denim outfit.



Sunday, September 11, 2011

One Flew Over the Cuckfatoo's Nest

Dear Fat,

I was skimming my last couple of entries, and I realized that I make quite a few depressing remarks.  My last somewhat hopeful one was actually spent reviewing Hoop Dreams, and that was over half a year ago.  (Actually, I do like that entry the best so far.  I need to be more thoughtful about what I write.)  I mention this because I think I am depressed.  I was attributing this last bout to hormones, but those really shouldn't affect me so much unless something else was going on.

So, I've been thinking it over.  For one thing, I have too much free time on my hands.  I don't do very well on my own for too long, so I am actively looking for volunteer work now to fill up these empty time slots.  I had another thing . . . what was it . . . oh, feeling like I'm stuck in one place for a long time.  Yeah, there's not much we can do about that for a few years (yay, PhD . . . )

I spent about 6 hours making this beef stew and some other things yesterday.  It turned out . . . okay.  I was missing a few key ingredients, but in an effort to exercise economy, I did not go out to buy anything.  Now, I have to eat about a gallon of it.  That should hold me over until Thursday, which is the day that my budget will allow me to purchase food again.  My eating habits may have become more erratic lately.  But we should note that I cannot afford to make myself feel better by consuming egregious amounts of food.

Today, I also went jogging.  During the blackout on Thursday (on which day, my dinner consisted of a banana and some almonds), I guess there was a sewage spill somewhere in SD, so the beaches all have blaring yellow warning signs telling you to avoid the water.  I thus avoided the sand itself and stayed along the road, but then I had no idea how far I was going (and I got bored a little too quickly).  It ended up being 1.5 miles.  Whatever.  I was hungry, anyway.

Learning new songs on piano is frustrating.  I like being able to do things, but I really don't like the effort it takes to get to that point.  Even re-learning these pieces I used to know is not as easy as I thought it would be.  I forgot how sloppy my fingers can be.

Hooray, the autoclave is done.

Waiting for my phage to titer,


It's about 6 PM now.  I had to buy ice cream.  I just . . . you know . . . if you were in here in my brain, you would understand.  I'll have about 1 cent to spend on Thursday.  Frick.
I actually feel a lot better now.  I have problems with things like ice cream.  And chocolate.  And ice cream covered in chocolate.

Sunday, August 21, 2011

The Fat Weekend

Dear Fat,

I . . . drank too much.

For me, at least.  I think I had 8-ish vodka or tequila drinks, but I don't quite remember.  And although I woke up at 8 this morning, I still haven't eaten anything.  It is now 2 PM.  I'm not nauseous or anything, but I'm not hungry either.  I think my digestive tract is numb from drinking two nights in a row.

My last few credit card bills have dipped into my savings, so I am now on a budget of $7 a day, starting today, for the next month.  Unfortunately, I think I'm also going to have to take my car in because the power steering fluid keeps leaking out.  Boo.

I meant to go jogging today, but I'm so tired.

Oh, and regarding my last post, it turns out that I did get assigned to a jury. I was called in the first panel and randomly assigned as juror 10 in the box, and then I never got dismissed, so . . . ta da.  It wasn't too bad, though, and the whole thing lasted less than 2 1/2 days.  Not bad considering now I don't have to go back for at least 3 years.

Anyway, detoxing,


Sunday, August 07, 2011

12 Angry Fats

Dear Fat,

It happened again.  I stopped jogging for . . . 2 weeks?  3 weeks?  It was so long that I lost track.  Anyway, I'm starting to compensate this weekend: I ran both yesterday and today.  I can feel my leg muscles again.  I also took off my shirt at one point to try and get some color on my jiggly white belly.  I was on the beach, so that makes it alright.  And now that I'm older, I just don't care about discretion anymore.

Okay, that's a lie.

Anyway, I am more or less moved into my new apartment.  It's nice to have street noise again (although I'm not sure that my roommate would agree).  We still need things like a dining table, and I still need some more efficient way of lighting my room, but overall, I'd say that things are fine.  I like having big windows .  And I like not having the threat of frog invasions.  Hopefully, there is also a lesser threat of psychotic pigeons.

Jury duty on Wednesday.  Part of me wants to get placed onto a jury just so I don't have to go to lab, but the more rational part of me realizes that there are probably better ways of taking time off from lab.  This is also the first time that I'm not "moving" to an out-of-county address to avoid jury duty.  I . . . hrmm . . . mixed feelings.

I really do need something to do outside of lab that isn't lab-related.  I think I stay saner when I have more things to distract me.  I'll try to figure it out this week.

Not diverted enough,


Tuesday, August 02, 2011

If I Were a Fat

Dear Fat,

I'm trying to take this whole unemployment thing with a brave face.

On the plus side:
-I have more time to work on my cupcake/apron empire
-I have more time to work out
-I don't have to sit at a cubicle hating life
-I was able to teach at VBS and my kids were freaking adorable

Yay!  So much exercising! All. The. Time.

On the not so plus side:
-I'm at home and there's food around and I'm bored and therefore want to stuff my face
-I forgot the sound of my voice from not talking throughout the day

Really, it's the eating thing that's the worst.  My doctor pointed out that even without Medifast, I can eat multiple low calorie, low carb, high protein, high fiber meals that are under 200 calories and continue to lose weight.  Huh?  Really?  All I have to do is eat less calories?  IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW.

I don't mean to be sarcastic.  It's just difficult sometimes not to eat.  Take this very moment for example.  I've eaten like 5 or 6 <200 calorie "meals" today, I've worked out a bunch, I'm not even hungry but for some reason I just want to stuff my face with food.  It defies all reason!!

I wish I could be fat and happy.  Then things would be fine.  Unfortunately, being fat not only makes me unhappy, it makes me unhealthy.  I don't want my heart to explode.  That just seems incredibly unpleasant.  I guess I'll just have to keep exercising and eating less until I'm skinny.

For now, I'll just concentrate on being skinny until it happens.



Wednesday, July 20, 2011


Dear Fat,

Operation Eat Everything Before Moving is at hand.  Let's see what happens to my waistline.  By the way, it is rather difficult to type extensively on a tablet touchscreen keyboard.  What a useless piece of technology.

So, I passed my quals last week.  Hooray . . . I am officially stuck here another 2-3 years.  Mixed feelings.  I did decide that if I was going to go through with this grad school thing, I should start giving it my best effort.  I think that has made the day-to-day work a little easier for me to handle.

Also, Fat, I think that I am maturing.  Although Saturday was the first day that I had gone jogging in over two weeks, I had not gained any weight in the meantime.  Even though a lot of things were happening like quals preparation, people leaving, and apartment hunting, I did not resort to eating my feelings like I normally do.  Is this what emotionally stable people are like?  How healthy yet . . . how boring and much less tasty.

The next few weeks will be an exercise in the poverty diet as I am currently spending beyond my means and will have no savings account if I continue down this path.  Who wants to make my meals for me?  For free?  You know you love me.

Poorer than usual,


Wednesday, June 15, 2011


Dear Fat,

Sometimes I like to believe that I used to be more in control of my emotions and that my current environment has brought out the erratic in me, but I doubt that it is actually true.  The immediacy of my current mental state just overshadows any memory of past neuroses.  Lord knows that I must have made even less sense in college, high school, and whatever came before.

My quals are coming up in less than a month now, and I have conflicting feelings about how much I actually need to care.  I think that plus a combination of other factors are starting to make me stressed, but it is not really salient yet.  At least I'm not eating my emotions, and although I don't sleep in as much as I would like to, I'm not having much trouble falling asleep at night.  I haven't gained any weight even though jogging is limited to at most once a week if I'm feeling particularly motivated.  You would think that this is evidence of my growing maturity in times of stress, but I think . . . actually, I have no idea what it means.

How are my goals for the year coming along . . . not entirely sure I'll get a paper out any time soon, but there's half a year left for that.  I'm almost done with all of the novels on my bookshelf--just finished Blindness and starting The Iliad.  Haven't really worked on my screenplay at all.  Neither have I learned how to play the guitar.  Those will both have to wait until after July 11th (quals).  I'm actually jogging less, not more, so that's not good.  Haven't lost any weight.  It's ok.  I have a plan.  Just you wait.


Tuesday, May 17, 2011


Dear Fat,

While I understand logically that "All that lives must die, passing through nature to eternity."  However, my heart just can't comprehend that yet.  While I'm struggling to catch up, all I can do is flounder. And it sucks.  A lot.

I'm told that grieving is healthy, I can't help but think that my preferred method--eating until I can't feel the pain--is, you know, not.  I know that I've eaten more candy in the past two days than anyone should, I don't know much else.  Retail therapy isn't helping much either.  I'm sad.

"But I have that within which passeth show;
These but the trappings and the suits of woe."

Eff you circle of life!  I want my dog back.


That's the last line of a poem we read in Chinese class.  I cried then too.

Sunday, May 08, 2011

(Fat) RENT

didn't really know how to make that title better . . .

Dear Fat,

Why is rent so expensive?  Why is moving so difficult?  Not that I know for sure that I have to move yet.  Still, after piling many of my belongings into the backseat of my car to temporarily store at my parents' house, I have a ridiculous amount of crap left.  Gah.  The best part is that I came home for Mother's Day weekend, but my parents left to go elsewhere for the weekend, so . . . house party?

I think my parents think that I'm depressed.  They've been much less critical as of late.  Like when I lost my phone, I didn't get one word about how irresponsible or absent-minded I was.  My mother just said, in all sincerity, that I was very lucky to have gotten my phone back.  And they've been supportive of my decisions.  It's just . . . who are these people?  Where were they when I was growing up?  Or maybe they think that because I weigh less now, I'm more capable of making smart choices.

After trying to watch the filmed final performance of RENT on Broadway again, I have concluded that I definitely do not like it.  This girl they picked to play Mimi just looks possessed the entire time . . . by something besides heroin.  Not that I like the official movie version any better because that one is just terribly staged (but at least well-cast).  And the one time I did see it live, I had trouble focusing because we had almost died in an elevator.  When I realized that I have never seen a performance of RENT that was fully satisfying, I found it surprising that I still liked it so much.  But I guess that's the point of anything that needs to be seen live.  And perhaps I have become overly critical.

Fat update:  ummmmmmmm, so, I haven't lost any weight in a few months.  Sorry.  I guess I could have gone jogging this morning.  Oh well.


Saturday, April 16, 2011

Farewell My Fatubine

(Title not meant to be a quip.  It was on my mind, but yes, thank you for returning my movie =D)

Dear Fat,

I burned over 2600 calories on Sunday by jogging for 13.2 miles and then hiking mostly uphill for another 3.  I also burned my skin.  Being white must be terrible . . .

which leads into the subject of being Asian (you like how smooth that transition was?)

A child growing up with embarrassing Asian parents learns several important lessons on her own:

1) Fobbiness is embarrassing.
2) White people are inherently cooler.
    and even more from her parents:

    3) A?  A?  Why isn't this an A+?
    4) Being fat is terrible and will never allow you to find a husband.
    5) I bought all this food for you. EAT IT!

    These conflicts prevented me from really appreciating my little bit of culture for far too long.  I think it also stunted the relationship I have with my family.

    Let's face it: I'm lazy.  Without my parents, I probably would have tried to get through life by just skimming the surface.  Relative to the standards that I have, I guess I am skimming the surface, but at least this well ingrained fear of disappointing others keeps me moving along.

    But let's go beyond that: I know that I have never had to struggle in my life the way that those in our parents' generation did.  Although I often heard stories about their childhoods and how they would lack for things such as milk and proper clothing, I'm not sure that I could picture the emotional scope of this life until I started watching Chinese films like Farewell My Concubine and To Live.  Yes, it's kind of sad that I had to learn these things from movies, but these particular movies were powerful in depicting how simple individuals lost their traditions and bought into the promises of each new government as they struggled to preserve their dignity and protect their loved ones.  No, my parents' lives were not nearly that dramatic, but I never knew before how to picture the poverty and to hear the propaganda of their time.  I've seen a lot of foreign films set and/or made in different time periods, but watching these, I felt something different stir inside of me--where I was genuinely moved by the history of my people.  Like the histories of many other peoples, it is defined mainly by struggle and disappointment.

    Living here now in modern-day America, what do I have to complain about?  I have too much to eat?  These leafy greens are a little wilted and yellow now, so I'll throw them out.  I spend too much money?  I'm being paid to go to school in a time when others can't find jobs, and I still can't live sustainably.  I don't like my job?  I have come to realize that I don't really know what to do with myself if I'm not working on something.  Writing this blog is probably the most productive use of my procrastination time.  But here's my way of thinking now: my life isn't really that hard.  Yes, I'm disappointed, but that doesn't mean I can't keep moving towards something.  This idea helps when I'm convincing myself to work a little harder in lab, at exercise, at anything, really, on any particular day.  I also need to remember that I have never ended up quite where I wanted to be, but things have generally turned out okay.

    With skin peeling off of my shoulders,


    Thursday, March 31, 2011

    The Naked Fat

    Dear Fat,

    Don't forget that I'm still raising money for lupus.  Another team is out-fundraising us by quite a bit, and we have to get our top spot back.  Please donate here.  We are also doing a continuous bake sale fundraiser of sorts, so if you're in SD or LA, let me know what you would like to eat by April 22nd or so, and I'll quote a price.  I'll make just about anything that is delicious.

    So, Fat, I'm losing weight at a pretty steady rate, but it usually involves gaining about 3 pounds in the beginning of the week and losing 4 by the end.  I suppose it would be healthier to do this in a linear fashion, but I still like my food a little too much.  I'm not addicted.  I can quit anytime I want . . . yeah . . .

    According to mynetdiary, playing piano for an hour burns 230 calories.  That seems . . . like a lot for what doesn't amount to more than forearm exercising.  Although I have to say  that the six pages of tremolo exercise at the end of my Hanon book does make me feel arm muscles I never knew that I had.  Still, this jiggly arm fat remains.  And it distributes itself differently on each arm.  Asymmetry adds character, right?

    Fat, I feel like my life is lacking in inspiration right now.  I can't write.  I can't think about science.  I can't really play music articulately.  What's going on?  Oh, right.



    Monday, March 14, 2011

    Fatti: Fear Eats the Soul

    Dear Fat,

    Time change plus excess caffeine make it difficult to sleep at a decent hour.  Therefore, I am defragmenting my computer.

    You know that you're running low on blog titles when the works get more and more obscure.  Let me explain this one.  Ali: Fear Eats the Soul is a 1970s German film made during a two-week break Fassbinder had between projects.  It is very much flawed in technical aspects and in some of the acting, but I love the raw quality that these flaws add to the main characters' relationship.  Emmi, a 60-something German cleaning lady, falls in love with Ali, a 30 or 40-something Moroccan immigrant worker.  She expresses that although she is happy to have found him, she is also afraid, to which he responds, "Not fear.  Fear not good.  Fear eat soul." I like the simplicity of this statement: "Fear eat soul."

    Last time, I mentioned a fear of being fat.  It's of course more general than that.  While I have learned to take the downs of my life much more lightly, it has still overall been quite a frustrating period of time for me.  Normally, this would force me back into my vices (as it may or may not have a few months ago), but I am attempting to channel this energy into something more productive.  I'm learning more.  I'm jogging a little faster.  I'm eating . . .  somewhat less.  And I'm 13.8 pounds down from my starting weight.  No more fear.  No more self-loathing.

    Also, a notice to current non-California-dwellers: if you'd like me to visit you sometime in the next year, please find a conference in your area that I can attend.  I'm too lazy to look them up on my own.  The first reasonable one wins.

    Maybe still a little hungry but going to bed anyway,


    Tuesday, March 08, 2011

    To the Fathouse

    Dear Fat,

    Today is Fat Tuesday.  How appropriate for what happened today.

    Medifast Report: 1 month down. 15 pounds lost.  Woo hoo!

    Today's Report: I ate a brownie, a piece of chocolate chip cookie, a curry koroke(curry filled bread), and sweet potato cake.

    Oh yah.  I'm a fattie.

    I brought all of my Medifast meals so that I could be good even while I'm out of town.  Apparently, the allure of food is too much for me.  The allure of food... in Irvine?!

    WTF?!  I'm going to New York in a week.  How am I going to keep to my diet there?

    Hold up.  I am so distracted.  It's been several weeks since I've seen Glee, so can someone please explain what's happening?  Gwyneth really shouldn't sing, but Kurt totes knows what's what.  I... don't know what's happening with anything anymore.  Oh my goodness.  This is the third song Gwyneth has sung this episode.  It is 8:36.  WTF?  Please don't let her sing anymore.

    In related news, I submitted my information for the X-factor auditions.  Gosh, I hope I get it.

    Umm... what was I talking about?  Oh, right.  Medifast.  With renewed conviction, I'm devoting myself back to Medifast.  Nobody's perfect.  We all make mistakes.  Tomorrow is another da--is Santana a lesbian?

    Is Sam dating Santana?  Didn't he like propose to Quinn in the second episode he was in?  What?  Wow. The celibacy's club rendition of Afternoon Delight was amazing.  I love Emma.  She's so... me!  :D

    Uhh... so... I... yah.  Okay, well.

    PCD Workout Video Report: I am still uncomfortable watching scantily clad women grind and slap their bums while I attempt to grind and slap my bum.

    Holy crap, Santana IS a lesbian!  AND dating Sam?!  THIS SHOW HAS GONE INSANE!!

    PCD report cont: My thighs hurt from excessive squatting and grinding.  It's working!

    And with that rando report of crazy times, I bid you adieu.

    Applying for Biggest Loser,


    Sunday, March 06, 2011


    Dear Fat,

    In a fit of masochism today when I was out for my run, I chose to jog up that big hill and then all the way back to my apartment instead of walking like I normally do.  However, I may have surpassed my allotted number of calories when I decided to make some butternut squash soup to go with my homemade crème fraîche.

    Last night, I slept from 9 to 9, and it was glorious.  I also moved my mattress pad to the carpet so I could wake up without my lower back hurting.  How did I get so old?

    I was thinking the other day of how long it took me to get to the point where I could actually start to lose weight.  My main motivation had always been rather shallow: I didn't want to look fat anymore.  But somehow, that mindset alone never resulted in anything.  Or perhaps I found some comfort in that mediocrity.  Skinniness was something to be envied yet never attained.  Now, I can't say that body image isn't important to me because it always will be, but I do feel good about taking better care of myself.  Especially now when my life is going in a less-than-ideal direction, I can at least say to myself, "Well, at least I'm not as fat as I used to be."

    I thought this entry was going to be more thoughtful when I started, but I don't have much more to say.  When I was watching the highly fictionalized Amadeus, I was formulating parallels with Salieri's appreciation of Mozart's genius and his loathing of his own mediocrity, but . . . I don't really have much farther to go than that.  I guess it's better that I don't make every FoF entry into a movie review.  You'll just have to wait until next time.  While we're on the subject of movies, though, I have a complaint.  I started a silent film today, and it was actually completely silent.  No score.  Wtf.  I started playing my regular iTunes music in the background, but obviously, those don't go together terribly well.  Maybe I'll keep Chopin on instead.



    Tuesday, February 22, 2011

    Life of Pie

    Dear Fat,

    I am three weeks into my journey with Medifast.  It's been pretty... okay so far.  However, today I totes messed up.  I started my new job and we went out to lunch.  I had to do it.  I had to eat hot and sour soup.  It's my favorite.  It was delicious.  Not as delicious as my mom's but delicious nonetheless.  I'm trying not to feel like a failure and to get back into the swing of things, but it's still hard.

    Three weeks!  Three weeks of bars/shakes/"soups"/prison pudding etc and today, TODAY, I messed it up.  Blaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah....  So annoying.  I also forgot to weigh myself this morning.  But at my last count, I was down 12.2 pounds.  I hope I didn't screw it up too terribly today.

    The scale never lies.

    Dreaming of pie,


    Sunday, February 20, 2011

    Fat Dreams

    Dear Fat,

    It's going to take a little while before this entry becomes relevant, so please bear with me.

    I just finished watching Hoop Dreams, which reminded me a lot of my favorite documentaries, the Up series.  To save you from the three hours that it would take you to watch Hoop Dreams, I will provide a brief synopsis:

    Two eighth-grade boys from the inner city are picked out by a talent scout to play basketball for a private Catholic school in the suburbs, and both are offered half-scholarships.  One of the boys, William, starts out very promisingly, and the school manages to find a patroness to pay for the rest of his education.  When Arthur's family can't make the payments anymore, he's forced to drop out and enroll in a public school.  William does well but perhaps not as well as he was meant to (due to injuries and whatever), and he gets a full scholarship to Marquette.  Arthur leads his public school team to place 3rd in the state championships, but because of poor grades, he has to start at a community college before transferring to a school in Arkansas.  Neither one ends up playing for the NBA.

    Hoop Dreams was originally intended to be a half-hour special on how private schools sought talent from inner-city playgrounds.  It evolved into a project that spanned these boys' entire high school career.  Similarly, Seven Up! was meant to be a one-time deal where they picked out these dozen or so 7-year-olds from varying socioeconomic backgrounds and just implied that these kids' personalities and destinies are set by the age of 7.  Instead, they have followed up with these individuals every 7 years, and they'll be making 56 Up by next year or so.

    Of course, as with anything that is filmed, the perspective is skewed.  In fact, the director of the Up series once stated that he was convinced that one of the subjects, Tony, was going to turn into a criminal, so in earlier installments of the series, he would film Tony in shadier areas to foreshadow his destiny.  But the problem is you can't script real life that way.  This was back when reality television actually had to be based on reality.

    What happened instead?  Well, Tony made his way up into a comfortable middle-class life with a few properties to his name.  The vehemently anti-marriage 21-year-old girl was happily married by 28 Up and still has a pleasant family life.  The most cheerful little 7-year-old boy ended up severely depressed and homeless by his 20s with some degree of mental illness but then found his way back and is now active in local politics.  The passionate socialist went from working with disadvantaged students to teaching math at a private Catholic school.  Many of them have also commented on how this series has influenced their lives . . . knowing that they would have to be re-evaluated every seven years made them stop and think about how they were leading their lives.

    In Hoop Dreams, there was a bit of irony in the success of each boy's high school basketball career, and although neither achieved their original goal of reaching the NBA, being a part of this project has since provided them with more money and better opportunities.

    I love movies, and I love scripted works.  But the appeal in documentaries like these two is that they offer you an opportunity to really feel the toll that life takes on a person.  After William leaves to play for Marquette University, you see his mother leaning her head against the screen door telling us that all she wants is for him to make it through all four years, whether he played good basketball or not, if he could just make it through all four years, that would be enough for her.  That one moment tells you all of the struggles she's overcome in her life to make a better one for her son.  You could try to write that into a movie, but what would it mean?  It's not meant to be art; here, it goes much deeper.

    To be honest, I wasn't quite sure how I was going to relate this back to either Fat or Fit-ion when I first started writing, but I think I've figured out why I wanted to write about these works here.  It's this idea of wanting a destiny that may not be there and of leading an examined life.  When I set these goals and make these plans for myself, I sometimes find myself dragging my feet along and just expecting that I'll be able to reach my destination while exerting only minimal effort.  Of course, this doesn't work.  If I had the opportunity to watch myself living my life, I doubt that I would enjoy what I saw.  I would ask why I didn't do such and such thing sooner, why I avoided this opportunity, why I lost motivation so quickly.  I am young, capable, and advantaged (what's the opposite of disadvantaged?) enough, so why do I keep holding myself just a little bit back?



    Wednesday, February 16, 2011


    I am walking for lupus.  Give me money here.  You know I'm going to keep harassing you, so you might as well give in now.  Every little bit helps.  Thank you!

    Dear Fat,

    Somehow, I became a participant in my lab's six-pack competition (as in abs and not beer packaging).  How much fat can I lose from my stomach by May?  And I need to tan.  It'd be nice if the color of my stomach finally matched the color of my arms.  But I'd rather not expose a pasty stomach.  Ah, it's as if I'm trying to relate this entry back to its title.

    I still have this gaping hole in my left thigh.  I think the scars on my knee and calf will fade, but this one on top is still kind of gnarly looking.  So much for that shred of vanity I had left.

    Sorry, this will have to be a short entry.  Year goals are progressing well.  Will provide real update later.  Good night!


    Tuesday, February 08, 2011

    The Afattening

    Dear Fat,

    Well, I've done it.  I accomplished my week 1 goal on medifast: don't give up on medifast.  I can't believe it's only been one week.  Is time moving slower, or am I moving faster?

    I should be a bit speedier now that I've dropped 7.6 pounds!  Previously, when I'd lose weight, I'd dread the coming week for fear it would creep back--with friends.  But now, on this program, I don't worry about that anymore.  For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm free.

    I've been stuck in a dead-end job that I've hated for several months now, but no more!  I'll be starting a new job, in a new company, in a new city next week.  My cupcake business cards are almost complete.  I'm finally starting to lose weight, and this time it's forever.

    No lies, I still get hungry and crave certain delicious food.  But I'm no longer oppressed by those cravings.  (Sort of... I totally did not eat enough cheese, pasta, corn, and everything else before starting this diet)  When I see delicious things, instead of thinking "I want to eat that right now!", I instead say "One day.  One day we'll meet again.  One day when I'm skinny we can be together in the right way."  And then I say, "Why am I so crazy and talking to food like it's my estranged lover?"  To which I respond, "Oh, that's right.  It totally is."

    Yaaaaaaaaaaah... working on that,

    Monday, January 31, 2011

    Fatus Andronicus

    Dear Fat,

    Hello!  Maybe you've been confused by my behavior lately.  I mean, I'm sure you love it, what with the egregious amounts of over eating that I've been doing of late.  But still, I say I hate you, and in the past few days I have not stopped eating.

    Seriously, I've gained like 3 pounds in the past week.  What the eff?  That's insane!!  You probably want to know why I've been packing on the pounds like I was getting ready to hibernate (oh, wouldn't that be awesome) while still saying, "Skinny is gonna feel so good!"  And it is.

    Tomorrow is February 1st.  The first day of the rest of my life.  My life free from you.  And food that I find delicious and love eating.  I'm starting Medifast tomorrow and that means I will soon be skinny!

    And CRAZY!

    They say that it's healthy and that it's the fastest weightloss solution around.  My intelligence is a little more than insulted by the introductory video whose vague references to "leading university doctors" are supposed to assure me that this is the beginning of a new me.  "It's goof proof," Legitimacy-lending-doctor.


    I'm gonna be so skinny!!


    Saturday, January 29, 2011

    From Here to Fateternity

    Dear Fat,

    Oh, how the heavy have fallen.  It's been . . . let's say six weeks or so since I last jogged.  My foot still hurts on occasion, but this weekend, I will be attempting my first run in far too long.  Wish me luck.  Fatticus, you're coming with me.

    My diet was absolutely atrocious in early January.  I ate everything in sight without regard to my weight.  Although I generally try to keep my future health in mind when convincing myself to stick to good eating habits, I just . . . did not care.  At all.  Disappointment, anger (mostly at myself), depression still seem to manifest themselves in consuming obscene amounts of food.  The problem is that I don't really feel that bad after I eat too much.  Yeah, I feel better if I have things like salad, fruit, whatever, but I don't physically feel bad.  To shorten this story: I've gained a few pounds.  I was edging closer to my starting weight again, but fortunately, I have dropped a little since that point.

    No, I will not consider any fad diets.  If I'm going to lose weight, I will figure out how to do so while eating real food.

    I'm also consistently stressed now, and I have trouble getting myself to relax.  I feel like I used to be a relatively mellow person.  Perhaps that is self-deception.  Grad school, at the very least, hasn't made me a better person in any way that I can perceive.  Lab makes me feel incompetent.  I never really go out into the real world to help anyone anymore.  And people make me angry too easily.  Did people make me this angry before?

    Frick, I need to chill out.  Being tense while I try to do everything I need to do isn't going to make things any easier.  I apparently need to reorganize my life goals.  Meanwhile, I should also schedule my quals . . . eventually.  Maybe.  And I need to lose weight for sure.  Enough of that.  Can we talk about something else?

    I think once I have a little more free time (should have a little by the summer), I should start working on my screenplay for real.  Otherwise, I'm never going to do it, and it's going to turn into one of those long-running jokes about some grand project that I would never accomplish.  I don't expect it to be good.  I just expect it to be done.

    One month into this new year, I still haven't officially stated my resolutions, but I will at least get them out before the new year of my people.  Evidently, my own year (i.e., the year of the Tiger) is bad luck for me.  Rather counterintuitive, I would say.  With the passing of this lunar year, my luck is supposed to turn, according to a Chinese post-doc in my lab.  That shouldn't be too hard since this year sucked and is ending on a suckier note (don't worry, guys, I'm not actually that depressed right now.  I'm just venting.)

    So here goes:

    Long-term goals: Get qualified to achieve long-term goals (yes, intentionally vague for your benefit)

    Lab goals: Get paper out.  Any paper.  Seriously.  I would be desperate at this point if I cared more, but I just don't want my boss to get mad at me.  Again.

    Fat goals: Lose fat.  Jog 2-3 times a week.  Eat ten salads a week (we're apparently at the age when our arteries are starting to clog).  Lose at least 25 pounds (realistically . . . we'll work on the rest later).  Buy new clothes (yes, that fits under this heavily parenthetical-ed category)

    Hobby goals: Outline screenplay and complete first draft.  Play "Wonderwall" on guitar.  Pay attention to the news.  Finish Crime and Punishment and then work on the other books on my bookshelf.  Volunteer more.  Save world.

    Personal personal goals: Be more tolerant of people and learn how to shut up.  I guess be less sarcastic/defensive and more approachable in general.  Yeah, that'll be hard.  Also, do a better job of keeping in touch with people.  Written correspondence will be back on.  And relax.

    I'm sleepy now.  Good night.


    Saturday, January 15, 2011

    All Fat on the Western Front

    Dear Fat,

    What happened?  You came back?  When you were totally unwanted?  How rude.

    I've decided to rename Saturday to Faturday.  Last week I carefully logged my calorie intake, and managed to stay under/around my designated amount; hooray!  However, upon weighing myself, I observed no change.  Rude.

    It is with renewed vigor that I will take up my fight against you.  Because I'm in love.  Madly.  He's wonderful.  He loves Jesus (amen!) and sings beautifully.  He's from my hometown [county... same thing] and is beautiful.  Unfortunately, he's also a movie star.  *Heavy sigh* We're both in LA.  And love Jesus.  That's enough right?  Enough for us to meet and fall in love and GASP! sing Jesus-duets?!?!?!?!  Oh please, please let that be enough.

    Oh Fat, how skinny do you think I'll need to be before Zachary Levi will love me?

    Fatfully and fretfully yours,



    Thursday, January 06, 2011

    The Fat Badge of Courage

    Dear Fat,

    While eating the delicious chicken tamales I purchased from the tamale man outside of Vons today, I had a revelation.  Zong zi are like Chinese tamales!  This further proves the theory of the father of my ex-gay-college-apartment husband that Asians are just like Latinos.  We like rice.  We like spicy food.  Our countries of origin have suffered the abuses of white imperialism.  Yes, the parallels are unending.

    Anyway, Fat, as you know, you have been re-accumulating around my waistline and thighs.  Yes, my scars are healing over, but what has happened now?  I pulled something in my lower back while sitting (sitting!).  The hobbling that resulted from this injury then led to my foot sprain (or whatever).  Is this what it feels like to be old?  I actually haven't gained that much weight, but considering that I must be losing muscle mass, it's still not the best sign.

    You'd think that I'd be responsible enough to eat less, but I just finished second dinner (I made chicken udon to follow up the tamales).  Actually, I think the foot injury was a result of Monday's 3 hours of walking from first lunch to chocolate croissant to second lunch.  Karma rears its dirty, vengeful face once more.

    Icing my foot,


    (With an ice pack . . . not like a cake)