My Inner Fat Woman

I have a terrible secret, one which has caused me mental anguish and many sleepless nights.  I feel now is about a good a time as ever to divulge this secret to society (or my 2.5 readers) at large.  My inner fat kid is named Bertha.  That’s right; my inner fat child is actually an inner fat woman.  So how did we get here?

In 8^th grade and the summer leading to 9^th grade, my parents owned a bakery that carried my sister’s namesake.  Unfortunately, this bakery wasn’t that successful which meant my parents still had to keep their full time jobs and I as the oldest child had to help out.  I was the youngest baker in my hometown – true story – a dubious distinction not known for its glamorous coolness.  As it was, I GREW into my roll as a baker physically and mentally.  I became a fat 13 year old with a job which holds slightly more cache with the females then being the kid with a boil on his face but not by much.  Gradually the bakery closed and I returned to my normally scheduled program of TV, video games, and the occasional basketball game.  I grew from a fat kid into a fat teenager and pre adult.  But that’s the thing, once you grow up a fat kid, it stays with you.  You’ll always have an inner fat kid that needs to be indulged.  This was fine by me.  I just assumed my inner fat kid was a painfully shy chunky boy named Chico whose knees buckled anytime fried foods were present.

It wasn’t until recently that I started to question my own logic.  Sure fried foods would give my inner fat kid a tremendous boner but then I’d see something like chocolate truffles which would make me joyously apoplectic.  What was going on here?  Then it happened.  One night looking for anything on TV to keep my interest I stumbled onto a food competition show dedicated to desserts.  And I was in full rapture for nearly 4 hours - mouth watering, knees aching, heart palpitating.  I even developed that slim line of sweat above my brow like when you see someone so attractive your body temperature sky rockets – a lustful sweat.  That’s when I faced my own truth.  My inner fat kid had grown up into an inner fat woman.