Fat is phat

My sister likes to wear pants that fit like this:

Snug and sexy. I’d been wearing her expensive size 27 skinny jeans for a while and one day, the button broke. It made her cry and that’s when I knew that it was time to get my reverse anorexia under control.
These examples illustrate my distorted self image:
1. When shopping, I usually go to the size 4ish section and hold things up thinking, “Yeah, this is my size!” My sister looks at me and says, “Bitch, keep moving down the rack to the size 10!”
2. If I walk toward glass doors and see my reflection, I’m usually pleased. Only when I’m walking with someone who I’d previously thought to be my size do I realize that I’m twice the width. Not trick mirrors, Cristina, they’re not trick mirrors.
3. I often try on size small clothes and have that laughable moment in the dressing room when I can’t pull the shit up past my thighs. I never learn this lesson, keep doing it and doing it.
4. I eat the portions of 1.5 adults because things taste too good.
The symptoms are unmistakable: full-blown reverse anorexia.

I lack the self control and also the control top tights that most reasonable women have. Reverse anorexia is good for the self-esteem, but bad for my sister’s ‘cigarette-fit’ jeans and my arteries. The solution isn’t a diet or an attitude-shift, but rather getting into some ‘cigar-fit’ jeans, sinking into a couch with Christmas leftovers. I have reverse anorexia and accept the fact that I’d rather be the dude on the right than the one on the left: