First rule of Fat Club?  We don’t talk about Fat Club.

Second rule of Fat Club?  YOU DON’T TALK ABOUT FAT CLUB.

But I’m going to let you in on it.  Right here, right now.. a little exclusive insider that you won’t find anywhere else.  There is a science to being a fat girl.

Now, before I go any further, I want to say that you can spare me the “YOU AREN’T FAT” comments.  It’s alright.  I’m a card-carrying member of Fat Club.  I’ve come to accept that.  And while I used to be the vice-president, I have whittled my way to just being a member.  Eventually, I wouldn’t mind becoming an alumni.

Most of this is spawned from the fact that, at the doctor today, I was brought to the horrifying attention that, since my visit one year ago, I’ve gained 8 lbs.  EIGHT POUNDS.  I’d love to be passive and say, “Well, muscle weighs more than fat,” or say that the scales were off.. or, my favorite, “I still had my shoes on.. and they were HEAVY shoes.”

But I know better.  It’s just the renewal of my membership.

So here’s what you may not know about being a Fat Club member: there is no secret handshake.  There is, however, an immediate recognition of another member.  It’s the member who, when out with the girls, orders a salad.  While the higher-metabolized women around chow down on burgers and fries, the Fat Club girl will try and pretend as if that salad is what she always eats.

Then she’ll eat that emergency Kit-Kat she keeps in the car.  (Or, my preference, an Almond Joy.)

Another little known fact about Fat Club?  You can punch us women in the gut, and we won’t budge.  Why?  Because we have abs of steel.  Why?  Because we spend most of our lives SUCKING IN.  That’s right; we try our damndest to make ourselves look like Eva Longoria, even though we don’t have a chance at it.  And our constant level of tension in our abs really do give us strong muscles there.  Try me one day. (But warn me first.. you may catch me on a “I don’t give a fuck” moment where I’m just letting the belly free.)

Fat Club members realize how big we are.  We just don’t expect YOU to realize it.  I remember when Bryan and I first started dating, we passed a Lane Bryant store.  He looked in and told me how much he loved those clothes on me.

WHA?

Now, don’t misunderstand.  Lane Bryant has FANTASTIC clothes.  But he’s not allowed to assume that I’m in the Club. (And honestly, he’s a guy and didn’t realize what Lane Bryant was.)

And there’s a widely spread misconception that Fat Club members secretly loathe non-members.  I feel the need to dispell this rumor.  Sure, we may envy them from time to time (I will NEVER be able to carry off a pencil skirt, and everytime someone DOES, I turn a nice shade of emerald), but we don’t hate them.  We relish our hate.  We save it for very distinct targets: Carmen Electra, Jane Fonda, and Gunnar Petersen.  Anyone who has put out a diet that has failed us is WORTHY of our hate.. we don’t just sprinkle around all you thin things.

We do, however, despise alumni who lord over us like big sisters in sorority. (No pun intended.) I’m a member of an email group on SparkPeople for October 14th brides, and for the most part, we’re all in the same boat.  We’re all starting out around 150 (yes, people, that’s my weight), and wanting to be about 135 by the time we walk the aisle. (I once had the naive dream of being 119 again, like high school.. but that was shattered today when the doctor had to slide the “50″ weight over to the already existing “100″ weight there.)

I was the last member to join this email ring, and all of the ladies I’d met were lovely.  Very sweet, very encouraging.. and, like me, a 15 year veteran of the Club, all very eager to talk about food.  Then, a week after I had been introduced.. the alum joined in.  She, like us, had started at 150.  But she was down to 121.  And after she sent her introductory email (which had the obligatory “I think I’ve plataued” crap), all of the other girls removed her name from the “Reply All” tab and began to tell me how much she irritated them.

And I had to admit.. this was my first exposure to the girl, and I already wanted to eat her.

But there are some advantages to being in The Club.  I mean, there has to be, or we’d all fight harder to get out of it.  One advantage is that you usually have a killer attitude.  Now, I know all of you non-members just got up in arms.. and I’m not saying you all are not lovely and fantastic and smart and successful.  But when you’re part of Fat Club.. you HAVE to be that way.  You have to have an amazing wit, or a sparkling laugh, or a compassion that makes Mother Teresa look like your Fat Club sista.. because you don’t want them to see you as a member.  Fat Club girls still want to be beautiful, we just know we have to work harder at it.

Another advantage to being in the Fat Club is that, because you’re a member, you’re immediately assumed to be physically incapable.  I can’t tell you how often I’ve got the “she moves really well for a girl her size” at dance auditions.  Or when I tell people that I was out running the other night, they usually ask, “From what?”.  So anytime you exhibit ANY physical behavior, you’re immediately put above the bar.

And, of course, there is the obvious and most useful advantage to being in the Club: curves.  I’ve got boobies.  And an ass. (More of an ass than I’d like, but it gives Bryan something to hold on to in a crowd.) And even if I one day decide to become an alum, I plan on never losing my curves.  They are the part of The Club that I’ll always carry with me.. and they’ve served me well.  Fat Club members get the joy of being called “soft” and “supple” and “inviting”.  Those are nice things. 

So there you have it.  Your insider pass into the Fat Club.

Don’t ever let me hear you saying I told you.  Check the rules.  And if I DO overhear it.. I’ll have to eat you.