I Swear I Don’t Try to Be This Way

Ahhhh…massages. In a perfect world, massages are an Ć¼ber relaxing experience for the body and the mind.

But, when you’re an over-thinker, just because the lights are dim, there’s soft music playing, and you’re laying on a comfy, heated table, doesn’t mean your brain immediately takes a vacation. Usually this is when the brain is most active and alert.

The other day, as I was getting my massage, instead of finding my inner chill and namaste and all that other impossible-to-do-when-you’re-neurotic relaxation crap, I was instead obsessing over the fact that I forgot to shave my toes.

How could I have forgotten that those bristly bastards had gotten so out of control they were poking through my socks?

What else did I forget?



Did I wear my Limburger cheese boots without socks again?

Why are you the way that you are, dude?

They’re just really easy to slip on…

I’m forgetful.

I’m an asshole.

I’m sorry.

As my massage therapist worked closer and closer to my porcupine stubs, I reflected on all of the other things that I obsess/worry/think about before, during, and after a massage:

1. Did I shave everywhere? Like, what if an extra long downstairs hair pops out while she’s doing my thigh? Ugh. I’m basically Robin Williams’ knuckles.

2. For some reason, whenever it’s my monthly massage time, my body thinks it’s fart go-time. I probably am doing irreparable damage with all of the clenching I’m doing.

3. OMG. Can she tell I’m holding in a fart?

4. I always forget to have my boyfriend check for back decor. So, it’s almost 100% certain that at every massage I’ve ever gone to, I have some ugly, one-eyed puss monster that the lucky lady who has to touch me gets to rub over. *shudders*

5. I wonder if she notices how bloated I am this month? Bloated? Self, she knows you’re fat. She literally kneads your fat like bread dough. Never does she think you’re just “bloated”.

6. What does she think about as she’s rubbing my fat ankles and calloused feet? Does she think about having to hold down her lunch or is she mentally making her grocery list?

7. Do other people forget to shave their toes? Do other people even have to shave their toes?

So, now I feel the need to apologize to my massage therapist. I’m sorry that sometimes my body is prickly in random places and that my stomach sometimes sounds like a koala’s mating call. I swear I don’t try to be this way.

Anyone else feel like this during a massage or am I just insane?

Being a Blogger-Bitch Sesh

They have a point…

When I decided to start my second blog, I promised myself that I wouldn’t get obsessed with followers and ‘likes’. I didn’t want it to be about that-the competive rat race to get as many ‘likes’ and followers as possible. Writing is my passion and I feel whole when I’m actively engaging in my passions. I don’t feel good being a how-many-people-are-following-me-whore. 
But, let’s be real. A huge part of blogging is attaining followers and garnering ‘likes’ on your blog and across all social media. The more ‘likes’ and shares the more your content is read. 

It’s just how it is. 

Part of growing a blog is giving as much, if not more, than you are receiving. Just like in a healthy relationship, it’s all about an organic balance between the give and take. 

Over the last, almost two years, I have developed relationships with amazing bloggers and people via WordPress. The talent out there is beautifully, abundantly full. It’s inspiring to read and interact with other blogs and bloggers. 

So, it really burns my bitchy biscuits when I spend my rare free time to interact with other bloggers’ content and they don’t reciprocate. 


It’s all about the give and take, people. If you want other bloggers to read your blog, read theirs. At the very least, give them a ‘like’. If you’re on the reader, it couldn’t be simpler to do this. 

Like, really. 

Another thing that kills me (since we’re being honest) is the amount of blogs out there that merely contain post after post of stock photos with quotes that may or may not belong to the blogger. 

These blogs sometimes get loads of attention. You stole content from someone else, and that’s what people ‘like’? 


The bloggers I adore the most are those who you can tell spent time, energy, heart on what they post. 

I’m sharing some of my favorites, because it’s been too long since I last did this and these fabulous writers and bloggers deserve the attention and praise:

Charlotte Graham 


No Love For Fatties


When I Thought I Was Fat

I Will Not Live In Vain


The Revenge Wogger

Donkey Bytes

The Gay Stepdad 

Suzie Speaks 

The Shameful Sheep

Soul Gifts

I am so sorry if I forgot anyone. I went through my email and used the most recent posts from blogs I follow to find the blog addresses of the blogs above. Please let me know if we interact frequently on WordPress and I failed to list you here. I’ll make it up to you. 

Despite the hard work it is to gain legit followers, I think the hardest part of being a blogger is finding the balance between sharing your work on social media in a refrained it’s-cool-if-you-want-to-read-my-post-also-cool-if-you -don’t and being way too in everyone’s face about it. 

Because of this, I rarely remember to post on my Fatty McCupcakes Facebook page and Instagram. I do not want to be that person who people unfollow on every social media site for being way too overbearing and pushy. 

With that said, another one of my blogging annoyances is the lack of support from people you would think should be more supportive. 

I read an article awhile back about the struggles most budding writers face, and one of the biggest ones was the fact that you won’t always have the support of your close friends and family. Whether it’s because your content is disagreeable to the people you know, they don’t understand how to access your writing, or they simply don’t have the time or don’t care, it’s never fun to not be supported. 

I’m lucky that so many of my family and friends actively read my blog and support me in any way they can, but the absence of some makes me wonder. I know it shouldn’t matter, but it does. It does. 

I also wonder how I can have 400 some Facebook friends and not even 200 likes on my blog page. How hard is it to hit ‘like’? I’m not selling you something. I don’t bombard your feed with annoying, repetitive garbage. I don’t pester you for attention. 

So, what gives? 

These are just some of my personal struggles and annoyances that come with being a blogger. 

What are some of yours? I’d love to hear! 


In Case There Was Any Question…

I don’t know about you, but I sped right on out of 2016 in my cupcake delivery truck from Glutton hell, high on rocky road fudge and bleu cheese biscuits and crashed right into 2017 in a carb-induced coma, complete with egg nog dried into the corners of my mouth.

Whew. What a ride.

I spent most of my winter break carb-loading and comatose, covered in powdered sugar, next to an empty cookie tin. Cookie Monster doesn’t have shit on me. 

The result? 

Other than a blotchy, puffy face, I really couldn’t tell.

Thanks to my latest obsession of wearing leggings literally everyday, I never had to have the usual after-the-Holidays-can’t-fit-into-my-pants-crying-fit. 

My boyfriend would like to say that he’s eternally grateful to LuLaRoe and their leggings that keep his fat girlfriend half sane. 

And, because I’d rather just not know, I don’t weigh myself. Even when I go to the doctor, I say, “Don’t tell me!”, as I anxiously get on the scale. I think they have, “Doesn’t want to know the extent of her fatness” written on my chart, because I don’t usually have to remind them. 

Normally, the way I can tell that I’ve overdone it and thus gained some weight is that some of my fat comes back up when I bend over to tie my shoes. 

Gross, I know. 

I’m just being honest. 

Because I’ve been the height of laziness over the last few weeks, I haven’t even put on real shoes. 

So, all of this to say- I couldn’t tell how much holiday weight I had gained. 

It was actually really refreshing at first to live blindly unaware of how much more stress I was putting on my overworked couch. 

I felt lighter, with each step to the refrigerator, thinking the damage couldn’t be that catastrophic.

However, behind my new lighthearted, unaware approach to my fatness was a nagging feeling that something would show me the truth. 

I figured my new leggings would finally give in to the pressure and the seams would come undone.

Or, while leaning on the door of the refrigerator, the whole thing would come crashing forward with the weight of my shitty food choices and my massive body. 


No signs. Nothing.

That is, until I went to the bathroom at the salon where my masseuse rents a massage room. 

I was just sitting there, like any other normal person, doing their business. I was probably noticing the appalling state of my holey underwear or picking at my cuticles. 


Until I looked up and into the mirror directly in front of me. 

How I didn’t die of shock right then and there is a profound mystery to me. 

If at any point you feel the need to be slapped in the face with the reality of your fatness, just sit on a toilet in front of a fucking mirror.

After that terrible shock to my heart, it’s been green beans and chicken broth every day.

No, I’m lying. 

After my massage, I went straight to the store and bought a 12 pack of cupcakes and drowned my sorrow in frosting. 

Here’s my Yelp review of the salon and their asshole mirror:

So, in case any of you really need to know how far your weight gain has gotten out of control, or you’re a masochist, just get naked and sit down on a toilet in front of a full length mirror. 

#dead šŸ’€

I’d like to thank one of my Facebook friends, followers, and old high school classmate for giving me the idea to turn my Yelp review into a blog post. Thanks, girl! 

Health BallsĀ 

So, it’s no secret that food is the culprit for my fatness. It’s also no secret that I have zero control when it comes to food. If something is tasty, there is no just sampling it, or eating a normal, decent amount of it. No, I eat something until it’s gone. I eat it until my insides are crying out in agony. I eat it until I drown out the voice of reason, the voice saying, “Er, I think that’s good. Enough. Stop”. Shut up, you deceitful bitch, and take this cheesecake like you want it. You know you want it. 


In a nutshell, I’ve always struggled with food. My cupboards are bare, and not because I can’t afford to stock them, but because I can’t have any temptation just lying around. You would think I was a crackhead. In a sense, I am, just my drug of choice is kettle corn and caramel cookie crunch gelato. 

Since Amy and I are getting all physical with our yoga and plank challenge, (I think the squat challenge has been dismissed for reasons of “fuck that”) we decided to go all the way and try to eat clean for a whopping 3 days. Yes, I know. “Go us”, in a really haughty, sarcastic way, “3 whole days, I don’t think we will make it”. In defense, I don’t think we will make it. Or, I won’t. I can’t speak for Amy. Let me explain, we are teachers. Chocolate, and large doses of it, is practically prescribed by our physicians. I have a drawer in my desk, specifically reserved for my chocolate horde. I have decor made of Dum Dums in my room. I will have to cart all of that crap out of my classroom to be successful with this no-eating-sweets business. That’s the plan, actually. Another 3rd grade teacher will be “watching” our chocolate for us. I can pretty much just kiss it ‘goodbye’. 

After a fair amount of tears and mourning for my chocolate, I got on good ol’ Pinterest and pinned “clean” and Paleo-ish shopping lists and recipes. I can’t say we are going all gangbusters as far as eating 100% clean or Paleo, just drastically cutting down on highly processed foods and sugars. One area in which I intake far too much artificial sugar is with my morning coffee and granola bar. Instead of my usual chemical-laden coffee creamer, I made my own with almond milk, honey, and vanilla. I can’t take credit for this recipe as its all thanks to Pinterest, but I can take credit for the cute fabric flower on top of the jar. That was all me. It was also very necessary, obviously. 


Coffee creamer recipe: http://pinterest.com/pin/113997434294579075/

Next, I knew I would need a “sweet” fix, outside of my morning coffee, so I made protein balls. I would like to say I’ve been a total adult, in regards to the naming of this health “treat”, but alas I’ve been making jokes all day about my balls.  I don’t really have balls, but I made them. They started out too small, and I felt so bad for them. No one wants small balls, and they just wouldn’t satisfy. So, I made my balls bigger. Also, I thought that they resembled Snuffleupagus’ balls, if he had any, that is. I mean, don’t they? 

PB Granola Bites: http://pinterest.com/pin/113997434294561989/

I found this recipe on Pinterest, as well. I did not add the mini chocolate chips, as I felt they were the direct opposite of what I should add to health balls. I also nixed the chia seeds, because that is the only thing Winco does not have in their bulk section. Oh well. I used Adam’s natural peanut butter and raw honey. I ate one ball, and wowza. I never knew balls could be so tasty!

Tomorrow, these health treats will be the most exciting thing I will eat, outside of the raw almonds and zero taste Greek yogurt on my menu. I will really have to start beginning to live for something other than food. I’m getting the shakes just thinking of it. Perhaps, I won’t make it one day this week, or maybe it will be so fantastic to eat this way, it will be a total lifestyle change. Either way, it will make for great material for my blog. Stay tuned. 

*The lack of commas in the ecard image in no way signifies my knowledge (or lack there of) of commas. It was too funny, and too true to not include.