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Diary Of A Fat, Skinny Girl.

I’m no health nut by any means, but I’d definitely say I’m one of the healthiest eaters out of all my friends. I’m the weird girl at the bar that orders celery sticks with light ranch dressing, and prefers a sugar-free Red Bull at the club. Somehow, I was born with an affinity for deep fried Oreos as well as an obsession for kale.

If you were to take a tour of my kitchen, you’d probably make a beeline for the nearest gas station or liquor store in dire need of some artificial flavors. I’m actually really good at grocery shopping. I’m not trying to snag the cover of Fitness Magazine, so I don’t go too crazy, but  I know what’s good for my body and what isn’t. I’m fine when I’m by myself, but peer pressure is a BITCH.

The other day I get back from Trader Joe’s with my mom, and start unpacking bags of quinoa, almond milk, fresh fruits, and veggies, etc. Then, she dumps two sandwich bags of fried chicken skin on the table right next to my skinless chicken breasts. The irony of it all kills me. Not only that, but it’s accompanied by a small container of vinegar and garlic. My compression pants are just begging to be burned at this point.

I know I just went on and on about being healthy, but fuck some celery sticks! Fried chicken skin is definitely one of my favorite things to munch on while guzzling down a San Miguel. But I mean, who does that? Who prints out recipes from My Healthy and goes grocery shopping with me, then slaps me in the face with fried chicken skin? My mom, that’s who. After my fifth piece, I had to tell her to hide it. And she did (challenge accepted!).

As I type this now, careful to not get chicken grease on my keyboard, I’m feeling rather ashamed. But not as ashamed as when I first found the chicken skin a few minutes ago in the very top cabinet over the kitchen counter (nice try mom). You should’ve seen me looking like a fucking crack addict, crouched over on a stool, too excited to get my fix that I totally ignored the bananas and apples screaming, “Noooo, eat me instead!” in front of me. I looked worse than Amanda Bynes’ last Twitpic.

Needless to say, I have a problem. I love fried chicken skin, that’s my fucking problem.


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