I Am Pathetic. And Fat. Pathetic and Fat

In addition to counting myself among a crowd of geeks, freaks and weirdos to see the midnight screening of a super hero movie Thursday night (that's the part that makes me pathetic), the following conversation I had with a co-worker Friday reminded me that I'm fat.

The setup: our office intern dropped two chocolate chip cookies off at my desk, which I promptly ate as a nice dessert to the leftover deep-dish pizza from dinner last night that I scarfed down for lunch. A few minutes later as I stopped by his desk for something, the following hilarious* interaction ensued:
Intern: "How were the cookies?"
Me: "Very good. Were they Pepperidge Farms?"
Intern: "Yes. How on earth did you know that??"

I didn't respond. But what I wanted to say was, "I know that because I've consumed so many fucking chocolate chip cookies - especially in the last four months - that I could pick them out even in a blind taste test. Indeed, I could tell a Starbuck's chocolate chip cookie from a Caribou Coffee's; a Matt's from a Mrs. Field's; and definitely a Chips Ahoy from a Keebler Soft Bake with incredible ease, you'd think I baked them myself. There isn't a chocolate chip cookie I've said no to since Bush was elected president. Come to think of it: no cookie, brownie, Hostess product, pie, cake, coffeecake, donut, donut hole, cupcake, or cinnamon roll has escaped my grasp in the last five years." Yes, that is how pathetic (and fat) I've become.

Further evidence that I'm fat:

1. I no longer need a belt for any of my pants.
2. My "chest" (although "man-breasts" is certainly more accurate) now shake when I run down a flight of stairs.
3. The dreaded double-chin, previously only viewable with my head positioned in a certain/awkward way, is now a permanent fixture on my face.
4. Back Fat. And worse, photographic evidence of it.
5. Sometimes when I'm really hungry and I go to Burger King (which in itself I shouldn't admit to), sometimes I not only order the King Size, but I will often get a hamburger on the side. Who the fuck gets a hamburger on the side except for fatties like me?
6. Remember that song "Things that make you go 'Hmm.'"? And remember when some food company like Kraft bought the rights to that song and made a jingle that went, "Things that make you go 'Mmmm.'"? Well, that's basically the song that runs through my head constantly as I walk up and down the aisles at the supermarket.
7. Because unless you're some kind of professional chocolate chip cookie taster, nobody should be able to identify a Pepperidge Farm cookie just by taste. That's just wrong.

The really sad or funny part about all this is that there was a time in the not-too-distant past (like even 11 months ago) when I had a body that would be envied by many people my age.

I think today I'll send myself a card that reads "Congratulations Fatty McFat! Have another chocolate sundae!"

* and by "hilarious" I of course mean "pathetic."