WTF Wednesdays #7: You Whore 

Ahh, blogging. Where do I even begin? I guess from the beginning. 

Way back, like seven years back, I started my first blog. It took a lot to get to the point where I finally hit “publish”. I sent writing samples off to my mom, who, obviously, said I was funny. I worried that she was biased, so she sent off my writing samples to colleagues and friends, never hinting at who I was. The response was incredibly positive and was the impetus to finally put myself out there for the world to read. 

Only, I had NO clue how to blog. Not one fucking iota. The only people who ever read my posts were close friends and family via Facebook and relentless “hints”. 

Not everyone and their halfwit brother had a blog then, so there weren’t articles all over social media about how to blog. I don’t think it was a “thing” then. I also think this was before the WordPress reader. Hashtags, Pinterest, and Twitter weren’t even in existence. It was the Blogging Stone Age. 

Pretty much no one outside of my small circle read my blog. 

What’s crazy is that I was OK with that. I was doing what I loved to do, and it didn’t really matter that I had to beg my ex to post supportive comments to make it look like I had a “following”. 

My second attempt at blogging has been a completely different experience. Completely. 

I’ll never forget the day I got my first “like” from a stranger via WordPress. 

What is this? Someone found my post? And, they read it? 

Wha??? 

From that point on, my following has steadily increased to numbers I never thought possible. 

I love being a “blogger”. Don’t get me wrong. My most favorite part of the blogging experience is connecting with people all over the world, from the United Kingdom to Kenya. That part is amazing and often the only reason I open my WordPress app. 

However, what I am finding to be a challenge is the ever-growing influence to whore myself out for followers, likes, shares, you name it. 

When I started Fatty McCupcakes, I promised myself that I wouldn’t get caught up in the inevitable obsession if all I focused on was how many likes I was getting. 

Don’t get me wrong, following your stats, managing your comments, and knowing what it takes to get your material in front of more readers is an important part of blogging.

But. 

After having an interesting conversation with my blogger bud, Charlotte, I discovered why all of the bullshit involved with blogging has been getting me down:

I’m first and foremost a writer

Blogging comes second to writing. Every.single.time. 

I’m not the kind of blogger who is solely in it for the potential money-making and free product opportunities. I’m definitely not one of those beauty/travel bloggers who seem to  always be jetting off to exotic locale after exotic locale, donning their free swag they got writing positive reviews. It’s just not my jam (I’m also not a ridiculously good-looking, independently wealthy, lucky bitch).

I have nothing against those kinds of bloggers. You do you, boo. If that’s your thing and you’re making money doing it, hell, maybe you’re smarter than I. 

However, some (as in, not all) of these bloggers don’t seem like “real” people. Even more, they don’t seem like writers. They seem to be computers that communicate (if at all) with their followers in a very sterile, impersonal way.  

How far can you fully engage in blogging until you’re a computer prostitute, begging for the opportunity to gain a follower, all just for the price of a risky blow job and a huge hit to your dignity? 

I don’t know about any of you, but there are some aspects of blogging that feel dirty to me. 


This leads me to the conundrum I’m in. Despite the fact that I don’t blog to actually blog, I do blog to gain more exposure. I want people to read what I write and to enjoy it and maybe, just maybe this will lead me to a paying gig at some point. 

I was recently introduced to Go Read, which is an online book club, but also a platform for authors to share their posts and articles. As an author, you have the opportunity to make money depending on clicks, shares and the like. I hear that many authors can make $250 plus a month. In order to get started, you pay a minimal fee of $25 and you have to buy a book and then you get to post. There are groups popping up that one can belong to where you share each other’s articles to up your payable shares. 

Maybe I’m being the dumbest, densest idiot on the block, but this just sounds like the not-good-kind of hustling and exactly the opposite of what I’m about as a writer. 

I’m not sure whether or not I’m ready to whore out my writing to boost my income. 

Tell me: Am I being stupid not taking advantage of an easy, albeit sleezy-feeling money-making opportunity? Do you ever feel like a blogging whore? Let me know in the comments. 

WTF Wednesdays #6

I’m going to start out this WTFW with a haiku:

House hunting sucks balls

All I can afford are dumps 

Ghetto life, here I come 

I have never in my life written a haiku. Even when we had to write them in high school, I somehow got out of doing it. I really don’t enjoy poetry, nor am I good at it. However, this was quite therapeutic. I rather enjoyed it. Thank you, Traci York and your Coffee Haikus. You inspired me to get creative and write my own haiku based on the fabulous house hunting experience I’ve had thus far. 

Don’t get me wrong. I love, like, LURVE looking at homes. In fact, I’ve spent more weekends driving around looking for open house signs in my favorite part of town than I’d care to admit. I’ve whiled away hours looking at homes online, hoping, dreaming. 

My absolute favorite part of this whole process of looking for a house to buy was getting to look at potential homes, Starbucks in hand, paint color ideas swirling in my brain. It’s legit one of my favorite ways to spend a Saturday. 

However, I’ve grown to not like the part where most of the nice homes I’ve looked at are, in fact, over budget (I don’t even want to get into how that happened). So, now, my potential homes are really quite stressful and disappointing to view. 

Some I haven’t even stepped foot in, because the overwhelming scent of cat urine almost knocked me out. Some I was afraid of contracting some disease from, because they were nasty enough for an episode of Hoarders. Some had boarded up doors, falling down kitchen cabinets, and enough dirt on the baseboards to build a baseball diamond. It blows my mind how people don’t feel the need to, at the very least, vacuum up the stale chip crumbs and nail clippings when they know their home will be viewed by potential buyers. It’s just disgusting and shockingly eye-opening to see how some people live. 

It’s almost comical. I mean, I would laugh if I wasn’t racing the clock, trying to find an affordable home, where I might not get shot in a drive by in, before a very generous teacher grant of $10,000 runs out. Yes, right now, in the state of Nevada, teachers can take advantage of a $10,000 grant to use on a new home and a lower interest rate.

So, here I am, looking to buy when the time is right to sell, so I can take advantage of the only way I’ll have a sizable down payment. 

When this whole process began, I knew I’d have to leave my beloved neighborhood, as the home prices have been off the charts expensive for a long time, because it’s a very hip area that’s being revitalized. 

So, I knew that. 

In the beginning, I refused to look anywhere outside of a very select “second best” group of neighborhoods. Once I realized that homes that used to be exactly in my price range, were now out of reach, I begrudgingly allowed my search criteria to be wider spread. 

That was just the beginning of the madness that is now my reality. 

At this point in the game, the only place that’s off limits is our pride and joy, the world renowned “Largest Trailer Park in America”. It may or may not be factual, but there is a community just north of Reno that has been called this for years by locals. 

No offense to anyone living there, as I’m sure it’s lovely, but I don’t wanna live there.

I’ve succumbed, in utter loss of any other options, to areas that I used to be dead set on never considering, due to commute, safety, and pride. 

This tiny home is only $80k, but it’s a no-go, because it doesn’t qualify for an FHA loan. This is likely due to it not passing some inspection. My guess is that it was used for a meth lab and there’s massive damage due to an explosion not showing in the image. Or, maybe, the floor is dug up, because some serial killer buried bodies there. Despite it being in a very undesirable location, and Google street view tells me the neighbors like to collect old appliances, I keep going to back to the listing. It has a certain charm.  

When I first saw this listing, I legit thought that what was on the roof was a stroller. Upon further inspection, it is actually, in fact, Santa and Mrs. Claus riding a lawnmower. The listing says that the junk around the home may or not be leaving with the current tenants. I really hope they decide to leave the rolling food cart. I have a cute crafting idea for it. 


This next one is a foreclosure, selling for $85k. It’s a whopping 336 square feet. What a steal. And, since it’s a foreclosure, the previous residents have probably started the remodeling process for me, with holes in the walls and bashed in appliances. This one is a forerunner.  

You’re gonna poop your pants on this next one. I even looked at a condo, with wall-to-wall neighbors *shudders*, in my least favorite location in town. That’s not even the kicker. You ready for this? One of the pictures has an orb in it. 

I looked at a property, knowing that it is most certainly haunted. 

Someone call a head doctor. Stat. 


This condo was actually really well taken care of, had a high-end, front-loading washer and dryer, and more than one bathroom, but it also comes with the spirit of a previous tenant. 

Nope. 

I’ve even looked at homes just down the street from my school. 

I love my students and all, but I see them all day, five days a week. I don’t need them knowing where I live, or to risk seeing them at a grocery store, while I’m buying a box of wine in my weekend apparel that usually consists of no bra, hole-y sweats, and my Zero 🦊 Given shirt. 

Just no.

So, as it stands, The Haunting is the property with the most potential, but I’m not convinced it’s a smart investment to purchase a condo in a less than ideal location. And, despite loving the show Paranormal Witness, I really don’t want to be a sad tale that people watch, thinking, “Thank God that’s not me!” 

The search continues. 

I’m really not that big of a snob. A true snob wouldn’t have thought twice about some of the properties I’ve added to my “favorites” folder on MLS before deleting them, and calling their realtor for a reminder on what’s acceptable and what’s not. So there. 

#MyFirstPostRevisited #fbf

I was tagged by Stomper Dad to participate in #MyFirstPostRevisited. It sounded like fun and it goes along nicely with the Flashback Friday thing I’ve got going on. 

Here we come to the rules:

Obvious rules:

  • No cheating. (It must be your first post. Not your second post, not one you love…first post only.)
  • Link back to the person who tagged you (thank them if you feel like it or, if not, curse them with a plague of ladybugs).

Other rules:

  • Copy and paste your old post into a new post or reblog your own bad self. (Either way is fine but NO editing.) 
  • Put the hashtag #MyFirstPostRevisited in your title. 
  • Tag five other bloggers to take up this challenge. 
  • Notify your tags in the comment section of their blog
  • Feel free to cut and paste the badge to use in your post.
  • Include the rules in your post.

People who should also do this: 

An Historian About Town

Charlotte Graham 

No Love For Fatties
Hot Mess
Carrots in My Carryon 



Without further ado, here’s my first ever Fatty McCupcakes post. 
I’m still cringing at my grammatical errors and rambling. The horror. 

I’m actually fatter than I was when I started my blog and “weight loss journey”, my downward dog probably looks more like upended orangutan now, and what was I watching? It looks like Richard Simmons??


Everyone has a blog. I know. Almost just as many people have a blog about their journey from fat life to one of self-acceptance (or sadness, because being thin almost always means no more cupcakes). Despite this, I’m beginning a blog about my journey. How cliche. Whether it will be told from the perspective of a fat girl trying to accept her jiggly arms or through the eyes of a 32-year-old woman who has almost no idea what she is doing with her life has not been decided at this point. I’ll write about my fatness. I’ll write about my need to feel accepted in whatever form. I’ll write about my opinions from “fat acceptance” to the state of our crumbling world, both literally and figuratively. I’ll write about my life experiences, both past and present. I’ll write about the joys and pains of educating our future. I’ll just write, funny, thought-provoking, controversial, whatever.

A total aside-every ‘her’ I’ve typed thus far has auto-corrected to ‘Her’. Her wants to be capitalized. I’m not sure if this means anything, but I really, really want it to. Maybe it means I’m an important, inspiring, worthy woman and my blog will actually be read by others? Maybe it will inspire others? Maybe I’ll make you laugh, cry, or even make you eternally grateful you’re not me. Even if this little sign doesn’t mean anything and my blog is a total bomb or a total unknown in a world full of writers trying to find their way via WordPress, I will continue to write. I am writing for me. Writing is therapeutic, calming, exciting, inspiring and it’s something I will do regardless of how many followers or comments I receive. I’m really not writing for the exposure. I’m writing because I physically have to. When you wake up in the middle of the night to write down a thought so you don’t forget it, or when you park your car after just driving home from work and you have no idea what streets you took or how you even got home because you were mentally writing your next Facebook post or Yelp review, it’s time to start writing a blog again. For the safety of all people on the road, for my sanity, I’m writing again.

Thanks to Facebook and our over-sharing generation most of my readers (I’m already assuming I’ll have readers) know who I am. I’m not yet decided on whether who I am on Facebook or who I am at work or with friends is really who I am. Maybe I’ll find out someday.

Obviously, my name gives it away, I’m a voluptuous cupcake-lover (that’s being kind. I’m fat and I inhale Mix cupcakes in my closet and then I burn the evidence). I’m anal retentive. I’m funnier on paper. In person, I’m likely suffering from Aspergers. I hold on to everything (no, not in a hoarder way, more in an OCD-way). I beat a dead horse. I’m a germaphobe and I guess the secrets out? How did everyone know? I hate being looked at, but I usually feel ignored. I live in the past far too much. I have massive wanderlust, but I’m terrifed of the dangers and uncomfortable aspects of travel. I’m petrified of death, that death is just darkness. I collect Bath & Body Works products, but I hate materialism and have considered living more simply (it’ll never happen…). I notice and remember people, feelings, memories and details fair too perfectly. I’m either an excellent candidate for the Scotland Yard or I’m a creeper. I have only started discovering who I am. Haven’t we all just begun?

I’ve already lost most of you. I’m rambling at this point. I will stop for now. One tiny hint before I go: reading my words outloud might come easier, as I write how I think- a jumbled, mess of thoughts, feelings, desires and fears all wrapped up in a pretty pink bow, because I’m also a neat freak. Welcome to my world.

WTF Wednesday #3

For this installment of WTFW, I’m coming at you with a rant. Brace yourselves, people. It’s gonna be a doozy.
I don’t even care how lame this rant makes me seem. So, I’ll just come out and say it: WTF is so hard about hitting “like”? 

Now, if you literally don’t like a post/page/status update, if you’re offended by it, if it displeases you, then, by all means, keep scrolling. 

But, what could possibly be offensive or displeasing about a Michael Scott meme? Or, a humorous and relatable tale of woe? Or, my EFFING FB BLOG PAGE? 

I have almost 400 Facebook friends. I have 180 some likes on my Fatty McCupcakes page and the majority of those likes are from the good people of WordPress. 

I just can’t even anymore. 

This is why I think it’s just plain salty to not have “liked” my blog page when you’re a personal friend of mine:

1. What happened to supporting your friends in their personal interests and ventures?

2. I’m not overly offensive. 99% of the time I’m making fun of myself, people.

3. Hitting “like” takes you, literally, a fucking nanosecond.

4. I rarely even post on my page, so you wouldn’t be inundated with crap daily. Only recently have I been actively publishing post updates.

5. Whether you like it or not, social media is how the majority of the world communicates. Thus, not liking my blog page after I’ve politely invited you is like ignoring me when I wave at you on the street. I think it’s rude. 

6. Don’t even try to lie and say you’re busy and it slipped your mind. I know you’re laying on your couch, binge watching Japanese panda videos on Facebook. Don’t even give me the “I’m busy and too important” speech. 

Now, I would understand if the majority of the topics I posted was on the furry fandom, or my blog was called The Freed Nipple and The Unleashed Vagina, but NOPE. And, nope. 

So, why the lack of support? 

Maybe if those 350 friends knew how much it would mean to me for them to take 20 seconds out of their life to show support in the form of pressing down on (while not even needing to look) a square millimeter space on their phone, while they watch Gilmore Girls reruns, it’d be different. 

But, I’m not about to act like I need the likes. 

It’s just the damn principle of the matter. 

Like Karl Pilkington, I have a lot of important things to say. You’re missing out when you don’t hit “like”.


On the same topic, has anyone else noticed that you are now able to see how many people saw your post on Facebook? 

I’m part of a mom group (don’t even ask how that came to be) and the moms post hilarious memes and real life experiences that always make my ovaries shrivel up on the spot (I have magical, regenerating ovaries). Many times, these harried moms, just looking for recognition, get a dismal five likes when 85 people viewed their post.

You already saw it. You viewed it. YOU LOOKED. 

You seriously can’t hit “like” and THEN be on your merry way?!

Why is this even bothering me? 

OMG. 

My eye is twitching and I can feel the blood pulsing in my temples. 

I think I’ll go now, before I have an aneurism. 

What annoys you about the world of social media and blogging? Rant away in the comments. I promise I won’t just glance at your comment, without responding, before I continue my über important creeping of random people’s Facebook pages. 

Clever Chic Collective, Vol. II

I am so excited to announce that I’m a part of the Clever Chic Collective. What is that you ask? Well, it’s only a blogger collective made up of the cleverest, most creative, and amazeballs lady bloggers ever (am I still chic if I use the word ‘amazeballs’?).

I was so incredibly honored to be asked to contribute to this collective, and I can’t wait to introduce you to the women making waves in the blogging community.

Keep your eyes peeled as we bring you some of our best posts every Tuesday.

#girlpower

Today, we are pleased to announce new additions to our blogger collective, The Clever Chic Collective!  An Historian About Town, Mosaicca, and The Unabridged Sass plus Currently, Lately; PT Contender, Fatty McCupcakes, and How Do I Grown Up are collaborating to bring you the best posts from each of us.

For our second collective, we decided on the theme of community and friendship in order to represent the new additions to the group.

An Historian About Town

Blogging is all about community for me, and so is most of my life! One of the big reason I joined Alpha Gamma Delta, my sorority, is for the community and sisterhood. I am an alumna member, I serve as an advisor to two chapters and I am president of our alumnae group! Even though I was never a stereotypical Greek that most people picture, Alpha Gamma Delta is my base and provides more support and encouragement then I could ever imagine.

Junior Circle is our alumnae group, it’s for young alumnae to stay connected and maintain our sisterhood! We are quite a small group (only seven us), but the support I have there is unmatched. This is one of my favourite posts, where we visited the North Dakota State University ΑΓΔ chapter for International Reunion Day. I had never met these women, but they embraced us as sisters and friends- a wonderful community!

Junior Circle Roadtrip: Beta Beta’s IRD!

Until tomorrow,
The Historian!

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Mosaicca

When we decided upon the theme of community for this week’s collective post, I was honestly at a loss for what to link. I’ve never written a post specifically about friendship, per se. However, I realized how much community has meant to me in the marathons I run. Even though I run alone, every race I have done has attracted members of the community out to cheer us on, hand out Gatorade and snacks, play music, give high-fives, whatever! With that in mind, I decided to link to my review of my first full marathon, where I talk a lot about how wonderful the spectators were for support.

Here is my post!

Until next time,

xoxo Charlotte

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The Unabridged Sass

The theme of community is truly the perfect one for this week, as it represents the new additions to our little collective! Each and every one of the ladies involved in this collective are unique and truly extraordinary.

I’ll be honest and say that I immediately thought of friendship, and struggled to choose the perfect post for this week. And then, I thought of a very special post that perfectly represented friendship.

One of my best friends, Stephon, has always been there for me. I blogged about his wedding day and his engagement on my blog, but I think the perfect depiction of friendship is how he took me on a “friend date” when I was down in the dumps, as I wrote about in this post. Sometimes, you don’t need a whole village to cheer you up but rather just one really amazing friend.

Chrissey

INSTAGRAM | PINTEREST | TWITTER |

Currently, Lately

To me, community and friendship represent communication. Every day we use language to express our thoughts and ideas to other people. It is amazing how much we can share through the power of words. But not every instance of communication is a positive one. Sometimes we are forced to handle social situations that give us anxiety. For me, this often comes in the form of public speaking. A few weeks ago, I wrote a post about how I handle public speaking and the stress that it causes. Hopefully it can be helpful to anyone who feels the same way.

Sincerely,

Paige

Instagram  | Twitter | Bloglovin | Pinterest | Facebook

PT Contender

As far as community goes, I’d like to look at it on a deeper level: the inner circle. It’s the foundation we all build our own personal communities upon, and mine is all about Influence, Standards, and Courage. I think of community, and it brings to mind so many things…like community kickball drinking leagues [sidenote] If your town has one of these DO IT, you won’t regret it. I did this a couple years ago and it’s a great way to make new friends & also sneak in some exercise during the week!

Anyway, I recently wrote this post: Exclusivity & My Inner Circle, because it is HUGE. It can make or break you! Call me dramatic, call me Emily Gilmore, but I truly believe in keeping my inner circle insanely & unapologetically exclusive.

INSTAGRAM / TWITTER

Fatty McCupcakes

When I first heard that we would be focusing on community this week, I immediately thought friendship. As adults, we are at liberty to create our own little communities of support, love, and, in my case, lots of laughs. The communities of friends that I’ve built have shaped me into who I am today-as cliché and barfy as it sounds. This week, my first week collaborating with this fabulous league of ladies, I decided to link to my Memories post. It is a re-post from my first attempt at blogging, and is about sweet freedom, my first apartment, and my best friends during college. I hope you enjoy!

Love and Cupcakes,

Fatty

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It’s All About Yours Truly 

I was tagged by The Gay Stepdad in his Get to Know Me post. He listed me as a blogger he’d like to get to know more. I hope he knows what he has done, because I’m a massive over-sharer. Ya’ll ready for this? Brace yourselves. Hold onto your socks. Maybe, use the restroom first, because this is gonna get weird. Actually, it’s probably going to be boring, but I don’t have my other posts ready to publish yet. So, sorry not sorry. 

1. Who are you named after? 

Oh boy. Are ya’ll ready for some complicated shit? So, I’m named after my maternal and paternal grandmothers. Here’s where it gets fun. My “actual” name is Dorothy Catherine. Not once have I ever gone by Dorothy. Not once. My parents never even intended on calling me Dorothy, but they did intend on calling me Katie. However, they wanted to honor my mother’s mother first and foremost. So, instead of making it simple by calling me Catherine Dorothy (making the name “Katie” make more sense) they decided to stick with Dorothy Catherine “Katie”. I know. 

Every first day of school was a nightmare. When I got to middle school, I had to explain the convoluted way my name ended up as Katie eight different times in the course of one day. 

Thanks, Mom and Dad. 

2. Do you like your handwriting?

My handwriting changes depending on the day, the writing utensil I’m using, the surface I’m writing on, and my mood. I like my handwriting on the 82,567 anchor charts I have in my classroom, so I’d say I’m pretty happy. Dang, I don’t know how I’d sleep at night if my handwriting looked like crap and I had to see it all day long, on every wall and surface. What a potential nightmare that’d be! 

3. What is your favorite lunch meat?

I know you all have wanted to know the answer to this particular question for some time. As much as I’d like to share, I feel this is an incredibly personal question that only my boyfriend should know. 

Oh, I misread this question. 

Salami.

4. Longest relationship? 

Seven Years’ War. It ended in a battle wherein I almost cut an 18 year-old midget and her bearded fool. It wasn’t a pleasant time in history. 

5. Do you still have your tonsils?

Yes, and if I wasn’t such a scaredy cat who needs her voice for her career, I’d get  them removed by choice. Why you ask? Well, sometimes I get those nasty tonsil stones that smell like death. When I first got one, I put it in bag; made an appointment with an ear, nose, and throat doctor; and spent the day mentally drafting my will, convinced I was dying. 

#poopchunkssuck*

6. Would you bungee jump? 

Hell to the I’d-shit-my-pants-NOPE. 

7. Do you untie your shoes when you take them off?

Actually, yes. Most of my shoes don’t just slide off of my fat feet. It’s one of the many inconveniences of being plump. Also, I dare anyone to just slip off Converse. It ain’t happening. 

8. Favorite ice cream?

OH SNAP. Where do I even start? When I’m feeling naughty, a good cake batter ice cream with an icing ribbon and cake pieces is the only thing that will do. If I feel like I need to tone it down a bit, I am all about TruWhip and rainbow sprinkles. SHIT. I need some now. 

9. What is the first thing you notice about people? 

I’m going to break this down by sexes. The first thing I notice about women is their eyebrows. If their eyebrows are not on point, I judge the hell out of them. Every other YouTube video is an eyebrow tutorial. Get with the program. 

Is that bad? 

The first thing I notice about men is their height. When a man is really short, I always wonder how they feel about that. Like, are they insecure about it? Do they only like women smaller than them or are they into being the small spoon? Clearly, these are important questions. 

10. Football or baseball? 


Source

Baseball too…

11. What color pants are you wearing? 

Wouldn’t you like to know? Actually, I’m wearing my black leggings with the holes in the inner thigh area. It’s laundry day. 

12. Last thing you ate?

Oh, man…

Well, I ate a bowl of cereal. Only, it wasn’t with milk, but TruWhip. And, instead of cereal, there were sprinkles. It’s kind of like cereal, if you think about it. 

This is TruWhip:


13. If you were a crayon what color would you be?

“Black is ‘Slimming'”

14. Favorite smell?

Baking bread. A fresh bottle of wine. Lavender. 

15. Who was the last person you spoke to on the phone?

I try never to answer my phone. I also try to send an email whenever possible. Despite this, I still had to call to get a refill on my Xanax. It’s that kind of year.

16. Hair color? 

A little bit of brown. A little bit of balayage blond. A little bit of bastard gray. 

17. Eye color?

Baby blue, baby. 

18. Favorite foods to eat?

I really don’t have enough battery on my phone to answer this question. Let me just make it easier by saying: all the foods, except lima beans. 

19. Scary movies or happy endings? 

Happy endings? I think you mean chick flicks or feel good movies, because happy endings are strictly XXX and I’m not about that life. 

I like all movies, except Oscar-nominated flicks. Blech. 

20. Last movie you watched? 

I actually got The Arrival from Redbox Friday night. It was too boring and slow for me. I didn’t even finish it. I also forgot to return it until today, so I’m basically winning at life. 

21. Favorite holiday? 

ERMAGERD CHERSMERSE (you have to say it out loud). 

22. Beer or wine? 

Both. A lot of both. 

23. Night owl or early bird? 

I’m a teacher. I haven’t seen 11 o’clock in years. 

24. Favorite day of the week? 

Friday. I love me some Friday so much. 

24 1/2: Which three of your favorite bloggers do you want to know more about? 

BlairAn Historian About Town, and Charlotte 
25. Who were the latest three people to follow your blog (link to their about page)?

Jennifer’s Kitchen Blog

Traci York

Old House in the Shires

*My friend Alyssa describes her hubby’s tonsil stones as “poop chunks”. This is such an appropriate name, so it’s what I call those foul creatures now, too. 

Unbeknownst to me, this tag was started by Stomper Dad. Go give him some love! 

Forever Branded a Fatty

Hey, it’s Friday! Shit, yes. So, I did a thing Wednesday. 

I got a cupcake tattoo! 

I had originally wanted to just get a tiny one on the inside of one of my fingers, but I’m kind of a why-get-the-donut-hole-when-you-can-get-the-donut kind of girl. 

So, I guess there’s not much more to say about that. 


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With out any further ado, the pictures: 


My virgin wrist 


This was the most attractive out of all the pictures my friend took. So, obviously, that’s saying something. But, you gotta have the “during” photo. 

And…


Ta-Da! 

It’s bigger than I had initially thought I’d go, and I had a brief freak out moment, but now I’m just in love. 

FATTY MCCUPCAKES FOREVER, BISHES! 

Shopper Lottie Post-Blame the Hipsters

I have been so lazy lately. I really need to work on a new blog post, but I have not only been lazy, but uninspired. HELP. 

What should I write about? I would love to know if I have missed anything on the topic of being a total fat ass. Help a fatty out!

While I try to find some writing inspiration, check out the post I wrote for Shopper Lottie last year on ugly sweaters, and why we need to blame hipsters for basically everything. Also, let me know in the comments if you have a great idea for a post!

Hello All! My newest Shopper Lottie post is up! Check it out and if you are so inclined, leave me some love over there (I hate asking for that crap, but I would absolutely love to show my potential readers over there how awesome you all are)!

The picture gives you a clue about what my post could be about. Hmmm I wonder how hipsters could be involved?? I guess you will just have to go see!

Blame the Hipsters

sweater

Too bad these are sold out on Etsy. This is just perfection.

Fatty Fo’ Life 

Fatty McCupcakes here (well, no shit. Who’d I think you would think it would be? Freaking Richard Simmons? Come to think of it, a guest spot by Richard Simmons would be absolutely fanastic.

  

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Well, that was weird. 

I guess I’ll get to the point. For the past couple months I’ve been hiding behind the guise of Fatty McCupcakes. I’ve literally been living my tag line-I’ve been busily eating my way through all the baked foods I can find. It’s been delicious, but too much of a good thing gives you cankles. 

I can’t do this to my body anymore. 

Gone are the days when I could eat half a large pizza, a whole coop full of chicken wings, and steak-cut fries, dripping in ranch , and bounce back after eating a salad for lunch, for a week. 

No. 

Now, if I overindulge, I feel like a freight train hit me the morning after, and if I could, I’d attach myself to a Pepto IV. And, a continuous stream of calming pink bismuth would only make me feel half human. 

I’ve been worried, lately, that if I stopped living the fatty life, Fatty McCupcakes would be gone. There’s no use for that kind of alter ego when your life revolves around kale salad and yoga. How can I be Fatty McCupcakes AND not slowly kill myself one delicious bite of cupcake after another? 

In all seriousness, if I don’t emerge from winter break with diabetes, I’ll be damn impressed. 

I have problems with food, guys, if you didn’t already guess that. Gee, what gave me away? 

I don’t see why I can’t be Fatty McCupcakes AND get healthy, because the real meaning behind Fatty is that I aim to decriminalize the word ‘fat’. Yes, you’re practically a criminal when you’re fat. It’s also a “bad word”. Worse than ‘fuck’. 

This fatty be like, “Fuck that.” 

No matter how thin, fat, attractive, ugly, or willing to be flexible to the changing whims of society you are, you will never be enough something to someone, somewhere. 

And, why is it anyone’s aim to be enough for anyone other than themselves? 

I am loving the blog, When I Thought I was Fat, because there’s so much truth contained there. How many times have you looked, fondly, back on a time when you thought you were fat, but you would, maybe, give up bacon to go back to that body? Because you weren’t fat?! 

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So, what is fat? Who defines whether or not you’re fat? Who says the way you are isn’t good enough? No one should have that kind of control over your perception of self, but you. 

Back “when I thought I was fat”, I went out, in a rather…creative outfit, to attend a superhero beer crawl. This was probably 40 pounds ago. I felt sexy, powerful, ready to take on the villains in my leather, fish nets, and cape (don’t ask). I felt great until some drunk creep, who was probably just growing pubes, called me, “Super Thighs”. Secretly I was just relieved he didn’t call me, “Super Double Chin” or “Mighty Double Belly”. Still, after that comment, I didn’t feel much like taking on the world that night.

  
Why did I let someone like that have control over my emotions and perception of myself? Why, after more than 4 years, I remember that comment? 

Who cares if I have large thighs? “More strength to crush your head like a pimple, you assknuckle!” is what I should have said to him (thanks, Stephanie).

There’s also this: 

  

Can We Stop Talking About the Thigh Gap Already?
I’m going to continue being Fatty McCupcakes, because there’s nothing wrong with being who I am, in all my voluptuous glory, while I work to better myself. Let’s make the word ‘Fatty’ a positive word like, ‘yum’, ‘love’, or ‘cheese’. I mean, it only makes sense. 

Here’s to a healthy 2016, filled with fitness, lettuce, and the ocassional cupcake (there’s no way in food hell I’ll completely deprive myself)! 

Fatty Fo’ Life