“Oh my god! You are SUCH a fat bitch!”
That was Michael’s immediate response when he saw me eating my dessert last night. And I’ll admit it did look bad. But, honestly, it was just a couple – or maybe three or four – scoops of ice cream. It looks like a lot more when you go crazy with the whipped cream like I tend to do.
I like my dessert to have a mysterious feel to it. What could be under all that whipped cream? Jimmy Hoffa’s corpse? Weapons of mass destruction? Jimmy Buffet’s long lost shaker of salt? Wow, cool, it’s just ice cream!!!
But, I know it looks like I’m eating way too much. So, before Michael caught me in the act, I was trying to act nonchalant and not attract any attention to myself. Upon returning from the kitchen, I sat down in the big chair and tried not to glance in the direction of the futon where he and Charlotte were seated watching television.
But, that didn’t work.
He looked in my direction almost immediately.
Still trying to save face and distract him from my unseemly bowl of ice cream, I chirped out, “So whattya watchin’?”
He never answered my question. He got an evil smile on his face and then yelled, “Oh my god! You are SUCH a fat bitch!”
He’s just lucky he didn’t ruin my appetite.