Hey guys.. it’s me Xtine, live and in the kitchen. Now, you probably wondering why I did what I did.. that is, why I’ve gained the post-grad 15. Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news (fuck it, who am I kidding, I LOVE it) but if you are reading this you are one of the reasons why. I take none of the responsibility, it all lies on you! Now clearly I am stealing this whole premise from the Netflix show 13 Reasons Why which stole it’s whole premise from the book 13 Reasons Why and I didn’t memorize either so I don’t really know how to phrase this part so blah blah blah listen to all the pints or someone who I trust will stalk you (instead of Gay Mexican Fonz, I’m entrusting Guy Fieri).
Alright then, let’s bring on the shame and play a little blame game…
Have you guys ever heard of the butterfly effect? No, not the totally amazing movie with Ashton Kutcher but the actual effect? Neither have I! But Hannah talks about it and is all like, “it’s 1 little thing that sets much bigger things in motion,” or something like that, idk. Anyways, let me digress, this first pint goes to back to where it all began.
Welcome to your pint, Ben & Jerry.
My ice cream eating addiction would have never happened if y’all didn’t make such bomb ass flavors. So much goodness in one tiny little container, cookies, swirls, surprise cores, might as well sign me up for fat camp as they’re printing out my receipt! Why couldn’t you just leave me alone? Why couldn’t you just taste bad? WHY, Ben & Jerry, WHY?
Holy shit, could you make it any easier to get my hands on the thing that ruined me? Spoiler alert: the answer is no.
Welcome to your tape, Publix.
Everywhere I turn, there you are. There are 2 of you within a mile radius of my apartment, HOW IS THAT EVEN LEGAL. You make it so easy to buy pints, you even have signs egging me on and telling me “ice cream”. Why couldn’t you hide the ice cream in a secret vault?! And don’t even get me on the buy one BJ get one BJ free sales. I can’t escape you, you’re a stage 5 clinger. Well how does it feel now to have all eyes on you for a change?
I just wanted to be entertained and let my brain turn to mush, but then you had to go ruin everything.
Welcome to your pint, TV Commercials.
You always come when no one wants you. I mean god forbid I watch a television program in peace!!! You interrupt the flow and my ability to pay attention. As you air I never know what to do with my hands and I get bored… and when I get bored I turn to the freezer. So thanks commercials, thanks for being soooooo boring that you make me consume 50,000 calories in a single sitting.
You were fun at first, and I really liked you.. but then your true colors came out.
Welcome to your tape, Tequila.
After college ruined vodka for me, I turned to you tequila. You were my best, and only. liquor friend. I finally thought that I found a liquor that I could count on. I pictured us doing everything together: clubbing, family functions, drinking games with friends, pregaming dates, pregaming work, pregaming church, etc. But, apparently, you weren’t the liquor friend I imagined. Every morning after we hang out, I felt like death. Worse than death. The only thing that could save me ice cream.. cold, soft, refreshing ice cream.
(Tequila, I’m sorry about what I just wrote about you, I still love and will see you in a day or two BB).
You were all that I wanted. You were a way out of the vicious BJ to the face cycle I was stuck in. But you didn’t want me back, did you?
Welcome to your pint, Mega Millions Lottery.
You may not know this, but we belong together. I would be such a good millionaire. I look amazing in designer duds and am a born private jetter. Not to mention, I would totally share a million or two with my poor friends (call me saint xtine, please and thank you)! I really thought I had a shot too, when a random old man gave me a dollar to play.. it seemed like destiny. BUT OH NO YOU WOULDN’T LET DESTINY HAPPEN WOULD YOU. So instead of letting me be hand fed gourmet grapes by my gay butler Guillermo on my mega yacht cruising down the Mediterranean, I have to be here with my $5 pint of Ben & Jerry’s.
Beep boop beep I’m a drama queen and am better than you and you and you and because of this..
Welcome to your pint…YOU
I really, honestly, truly, and completely have no reason to blame for you, for christ’s sake I don’t even know who you are, but just thought that you would like to be included and hey, the more the merrier!
You’ve probably been wondering why you are on these pints after treating me so well all of these years, but if I did this, you had to be here for it.
Welcome to your pint, aging metabolism.
You always were too good for me, better than I deserved. You kept me skinny after I ate burger after burger, cake after cake, pint after pint. You made me believe that I could have a future of being a skinny girl with a big appetite forever. But then, you left. I begged you stay, but you didn’t. And now you are just another thing that has made me resemble a chunky, yet funky, fat chinese baby.
Pint 8, 9, 10, 11, 12
I should have known better than to trust you. I always had a bad taste in my mouth about you, but you were so cool, popular, and hip. I wanted to be cool, popular, hip. But that’s not what happened, was it?
Welcome to your pint, Dairy Free Ice Cream.
You raped me, dairy free ice cream. You raped my mouth hard. The bad taste in my mouth that I had about you was right, you’re disgusting. Eating you and your sad excuse of dessert killed my insides. I had no will to eat anymore. Every bite I took of you took away an ounce of joy in my life. Because of you, I had to devour not 1, not 2, not 3, not even 4, but 5 BJs to try to get your stench off me. The bad taste may have been gone, but I knew that I could never walk down the ice cream isle without seeing you and remembering how horrific you tasted.
I decided to give healthy eating one… last… chance. I knew that there was only one way to make it work, I just needed a little bit of help. But you didn’t listen. But you didn’t care.
Welcome to your pint, stomach.
I turned to you, asked you for help.. begged for you to crave something healthy. But as I stood there in the frozen foods section, with frozen vegetables (gross) on one side, and ice cream on the other, the hint of vomit that you sent up my throat as I looked at the cauliflower enlightened me of which decision I should make, and the decision that you wanted me to make. You cared stomach, but you didn’t care enough. And for that reason, you made me eat another pint.
BOOM NOW I’M FAT CAUSE Y’ALL!
Clearly my obesity and lack of self control had nothing to do with the fact that I decided to indulge pint after pint. I’m perfect, helllllooooooo! It’s all y’alls fault. I’m right and YOU are wrong. Plus skinny people can’t fat shame, so if you say anything otherwise you’re an asshole. Sorry not sorry.
DISCLAIMER: this post is pointing out the flaws of 13 Reasons Why and why it’s the most annoying (yet addicting) show that portrayed suicide in the worst way … I blame myself and only myself for being the lovely fatass that I am 🙂
P.S. JEFF ATKINS DESERVED BETTER