You Don't Sweat Much for a Fat Girl Read Online Free PDF

did you know that it has been clinically proven that if you eat a bowl of Frosted Flakes every day you’ll never get cancer?”

    Attorney: “No, it hasn’t.”
    Kellogg’s BS: “Yeah, I know.”
    After Verlie’s hairs were done, she sank back into the front seat of my car, pushing my right thigh a bit more than necessary as she buckled up.
    “Mercy!” she said. “Aren’t you uncomfortable in this small car? You ought to get one of those Hummers like my Fielding drives. (But of course.) He says it’s real comfortable, although I haven’t ridden in it myself. Field says he doesn’t want to get the floor mats dirty yet.”
    Suddenly, she brightened.
    “Let’s go to KFC,” she said. “It’s American, you know.”
    Do I ever! I once went out of my way to visit the Louisville, Kentucky, museum that honors the late Colonel Harland Sanders. There was even an animatronic likeness to gaze upon.
    I asked her why she wanted to go there, because she usually complains that fried foods cause her to be “bound.” Don’t ask.
    “The man on TV said that we should unthink KFC,” Verlie said, fishing for a coupon in the bottom of her trusty Vera Bradley Hipster, perhaps the most poorly named product ever.
    Verlie is very big on Vera Bradley because if there’s one thing she hates worse than not crapping regularly, it’s a “too-heavy pocketbook.” I have heard this many hundreds of times. A heavy purse makes her cranky.

    “Fielding says I shouldn’t wear anything but Vera Bradley,” Verlie said. “My Field says that a heavy pocketbook could cause me to lose my balance and fall down and break my hip and then where would I be?”
    Probably not anywhere near Field’s house, I thought. Look, I know that there are devoted, helpful sons out there who tend to their ailing, aging moms and dads but I’m not talking about those two. I’m talking about Field, who it was just like to toss out something like “Vera Bradley” when he probably just overheard it in an airport somewhere. Did I mention Field is an asshole?
    But Verlie, for all her annoying quirks and uncooperative colon, deserves better, so if she needed to unthink her fast-food chicken, then I was all in.
    As we scanned the new grilled menu at KFC, I couldn’t help but think it was weird, like going to the International House of Pancakes and discovering that it was really just Wisconsin and a couple of Dakotas.
    The name didn’t even fit anymore. I could picture Colonel Sanders’ animatronic statue at the museum coming alive just like Teddy Roosevelt in Night at the Museum (the first one, not the shitty sequel) to demand an explanation. Something along the lines of “WTF, KFC?”
    Verlie said she’d buy mine, too, because one of her church circle friends had printed out some free chicken coupons from the Oprah show Web site.
    That’s so Oprah. Bless her heart, she honestly believes that
we still care what she weighs. Oprah is crazy about the new grilled chicken at KFC. She spent a whole show pushing that chicken and put those free coupons on the “interweb” for Verlie and her friends to try.
    Sadly, as I told Verlie over a Snack Pack with slaw, this led to a riot in the streets of Manhattan. When I saw investment bankers and fashion industry bigwigs slugging it out in the streets for a free wing and thigh dinner, I realized the economy really might not bounce back. Police were called, I told Verlie. Fistfights ensued. Ugly words were hollered. It was like watching an old Springer show without the white-trash chick with the muffin top spilling over her Gloria Vanderbilt-Dollar Tree jeans while yanking out her boyfriend’s new lover’s weave. Yeah. It was just like that.
    Verlie was only half paying attention to me. I think she thinks I talk way too much and maybe I do.
    Finally she said that we should send a thank-you note to Oprah for the free chicken, and I said I’d get right on that.
    Verlie said she would’ve saved the coupon for Fielding but