Revenge is a Dish Best Served Fat…

Hello my darlings!!

So, four years ago, I had taken my sweet little then-toddler Lola grocery shopping one morning. It was a happy little Mommy/Daughter outing and I was in high spirits.

The Kroger we were at had sample stations set up that day, and as soon as we walked in, we stumbled upon a pomegranate juice one, and Lola was pumped to try it.  We skipped up and as Lola was sipping away, the lady running the station looked at my stomach and said, “When are you due?”

Ah, fuck.

I get this sometimes. 1. I have a big belly. I am missing some vertebrae (birth defect) and am about two inches shorter than I should be, so even when I weighed 90 pounds, I still had a puffy belly. Awesome trait to have, by the way. 2. I was still carrying most of my baby weight, and was well aware of being 40 pounds overweight. Lovely when people point it out.

Normally, I deal with this by trying to make a joke. This day, I laughed and said, “Nineteen months ago!” and pointed at Lola.  It is here when most people realize their faux pas and apologize, and we have a laugh as I suck in my stomach.

This was a special breed of human though. Instead of being embarrassed, her eyes bugged out, her jaw flew open and she gasped, “Oh my god, how much weight did you gain with her!?”

I swear to god, it felt like I’d been punched in the face.

I was so shocked that I actually blurted out, “I gained 62 pounds…”

Yes, that is more than the suggested amount, but damn it, I enjoyed that pregnancy and Lola and I were both delightfully healthy, so all was well according to my doctor.

This chick disagreed. Strongly.

She starts loudly saying, “Oh my gosh! Why would you do that!? That was waaaaaaay too much weight for you to gain!”

I have never been as horrified as I was right there. There were other shoppers at the tasting station, everyone was staring at me, and I was floored. I was too stunned to form witty responses!

So instead, I just stuttered my way through saying my doctor had said I had a healthy pregnancy, that I knew I had weight to lose, and that I had recently lost 20 pounds and was still losing.

But the bitch kept going. She just KEPT. GOING.

Chiding me. Saying how irresponsible I had been. How unhealthy it all was. She was absolutely appalled by my weight gain.

Eventually, I just thanked her for the input, put my head down, and pushed my little cart with Lola still sipping her juice sample away.

As I retreated, I could still hear that horrible woman telling the other customers that had been standing there, “Well, I’m sorry, but that was just TOO MUCH WEIGHT.”

I was gutted. Like, cut totally deep. There is absolutely nothing that hurts worse than being humiliated in front of your kids.

I managed to keep my chin up until I made it to frozen foods. I couldn’t help myself and I stood there and cried as toddler-Lola asked, “Mommy, why sad?”

I put on my very bestest Mommy smile, started talking in the happiest of ways, scrapped my grocery list and just grabbed the bare essentials before scurrying out of that store as fast as I possibly could.

The whole drive home, I cried in silence as Lola chattered in the backseat.

That afternoon, when Lola was napping, I decided what had happened was just big, fat, not okay. I dialed up the store and asked to speak to the manager.

I’m not a crier, by the way. I cry at TV and movies at the drop of a hat, but as for my own emotions, I never cry. But when I explained myself to the manager, there I was, crying for the third time that day. That in itself was humiliating in it’s own way.

The manager was satisfactorily disgusted and demanded to know who this woman was, and he assured me that he would go fire her right on the spot.

And here is where I decided I was going to take the high-road and get a little revenge.

I said, no. I don’t want her fired.

I had a plan…

I didn’t know that woman’s story. Was she always a raging, judgmental bitch? Maybe. Maybe she was having an off day. Or, maybe she needed that job to pay for her house, or medicine, or something vitally important that if I made the call, it would destroy her life.

And yes, what she did was horribly wrong, but I didn’t want that on my conscience.

So, I asked Mr. Manager if instead of firing her, could he do me a favor? He said absolutely anything.

This is what I asked of him: I said I wanted him to call a meeting with all the employees. And at that meeting say that it had been reported that I woman had been humiliated by one of them, but that the woman was refusing to say who, because she didn’t want that person to be punished for what they did. And to let them all know that he was prepared to fire the offender immediately, but that the woman had insisted no firing happen.

And the manager did just that.

He called me a few days later. He said the meeting had gone very well. He gave them all instructions on how NOT to talk to customers, showing terrible disappointment that it even needed to be done. He made them all take sensitivity training. And he said the entire time he was talking, he was able to see exactly who it was that had spoken so badly to me.

Her head was hanging. She was nervously looking around waiting to see if anyone would catch her. He said she looked totally ashamed. Her guilt was palpable.

I’m not going to lie. This pleased me. Immensely. I loved that whatever terror was going on inside her head at the thought of being caught, that the horror everyone else in the room was expressing at what this anonymous person had done was ringing in her ears. That she now had to live with knowing that while she had been a hideous, rude bitch to someone, that someone had chosen to not take the same path and cost her a job.

Seriously. It was delicious.

I thanked the nice manager for his favor, and he said that he still felt terrible for the treatment I had received, and offered me a gift card to the store. He was a good fella.

So, that was my revenge, kids.

Sure, I could have had that nasty wench fired. But all that would have done was make me live on in her stories as the evil fattypants that got her fired. And I didn’t like the guilt that would have come with it.

Instead, I tried to take a slightly vindictive high-road and got the cleanest revenge I could think of.

That might make me slightly evil, but it felt pretty stellar in the end.

The moral of my story is this: Don’t judge people on their weight. It’s not polite. We know we are fat. We don’t need you to tell us. It’s really not a big secret.  Seriously.

Also, the person you insult may not be as nice about it as I was. In my old age now, I would probably just pull a half-eaten pie from my cleavage (Where the hell do you store YOUR pies!?) and throw it in my insulters face.

And then try to eat it anyway.

I hope you all are having a fabulous week, 😉

Until next time,

Peace, Love, and Cleavage Pies


  1. You are so awesomesauce.

    And, yes, that is really the best revenge you could have gotten.

  2. Revenge is a dish best served with bacon.

    Good for you for your revenge – so delicious it HAD to have been fattening. 😉

    I’m 75 pounds heavier than I used to be – granted I was WAY under weight – and for my height I’m not considered overweight. But it’s a huge difference, and I’m still self conscious about the gain. But I have a THYROID condition. As in – fat kid with a gland problem. My weight gain was NOT in my control.

    People need to mind their own fucking business. Skinny =/= healthy. Bigger =/= unhealthy. It’s about being healthy and comfortable – whatever that may be. It’s different for everyone.

    *squishy hugs*

  3. You are a GENIUS. I’d call you an EVIL genius, but I don’t think that applies. Nope. Because that’s how it should be, when people are nasty. They should be made to feel ashamed for it. They should be shown that is was wrong, not have a new wrong done to them.

    It might have felt like revenge, but I think it was really justice. And it was AWESOME.

  4. You are wonderful. *I* still want to punch that lady, but you are the better person. You also illustrated a valuable lesson, because instead of ranting about being fired, she was shown mercy in a way. You took the high road. I think most people wouldn’t have been as wise as you. Thank you for sharing this — and for being awesome in general.

    Also? You always have the best gifs. <3

  5. I think you’re gorgeous. Kudos for handling that so gracefully.

  6. Cheers for you! You gave me all the feels. Mostly rage, then a snort-chuckle, then more rage, and then slightly vindictive but justified vicarious satisfaction at your method of justice. Also, now I want pie.


  8. You handled that really well, but that is maddening. I went from 102 pounds to 163 pounds with my first pregnancy (height 5’8″), and had people asking about the due date after the baby had been born, but never in such a spiteful manner. Size prejudice is just so damn petty and rude. I like the line, “I’d rather have a big body than a tiny soul.”

  9. I swear, muzzles were made for people like her. Good for you!

  10. This is such a great story for the fact that you actually followed through and dealt with it. All too often I see people getting away with mocking people for how they look, and it drives me up the wall to see people back down and let others get away. It’s sort of sick to see people ragging on others.

    Because being fat’s the worst thing you could ever be, right? Especially a fat woman. A fat MOM. It’s like you’re TRYING to offend people, you know?

    Ugh. I’ve gotten some nasty things said to me, and you know what? Every time I have to bite my tongue to keep from saying “Hey, I’ve had an eating disorder since I was a kid and now I’m probably going to die young because my heart’s borked. But thanks, your comments on my body really help. I’ve seen the light.” But the thing is, maybe I shouldn’t stop myself. And maybe after reading this I won’t.

    ps – as I said before, they can suck a million dicks, you’re a babe.

  11. And that’s why I love you. You are an amazing person on so many levels.

    Although if the story had gone a different way, say with a brawl in the middle of the grocery store, that would have been entertaining as well. 😉

  12. I too, have a big belly. No spine issues, just big kids.

    I too, have been asked when I’m due, more than two years after having a child.

    I too, gained a lot of weight (uh, 70, 80 and 50 lbs, respectively).

    I too, have cried after dealing with a particularly rough onslaught of questions about my “due date”.

    But I have never, ever been talked to like that. Good for you for calling the manager AND for taking the high road. That woman deserved to know that what she did was totally evil.

  13. Omg, you are amazing. That’s an awesome story, and it shows why you are fabulous. You’re right that this was a better way of dealing with it, and I’m glad you didn’t choose to ignore it as some might have. People like that do deserve to be confronted, even indirectly, for their behavior.

    I’d actually extend the not judging beyond just weight. In general, you never know the story behind things that happen and what people do. My mother taught me that and I still think it’s one of the most valuable lessons I’ve ever learned.


  14. Reaction to first half of this post: What the FUCK?! *gets ready to hunt this woman down*

    Reaction to second half of this post: That…was the best reaction. Ever. Both inspiring and satisfying. That is seriously amazing.

    Reaction to “Where the hell do you store YOUR pies?”: *dies of laughter*

  15. Cheers to you for the high road!
    BTW, I gained 50 lbs with my first pregnancy.
    Then 15 pounds with a miscarriage, immediately followed by a 35 pound pregnancy without a chance to lose it.
    Yes, I got looks aplenty.
    And strangers would rub my enormous belly at gas stations.
    I am 5’2″. Fifty pounds is hard to hide.
    It happens. Not everybody is a supermodel with a “C-tuck” surgery afterwards.
    Okay, I’m done being self righteous now! Just wanted you to know you’re not alone!

  16. How come you get ragged if you gain weight during a pregnancy, BUT if you were an actor or actress gaining weight for a role, you’d get an Academy Award for your sacrifice?

  17. I love you! You are one of my superheroes. 😉 My mouth literally dropped when I was reading what that woman did, and you did the sweetest revenge! I doubt many others would have been so stellar. And I hope I can use you as a role model. I still have my baby weight 4 years after my daughter and whoo, baby is it a pain in the ass to lose!
    You go girl! We all need to go bake some cleavage pies! YEAH!

  18. That was absolutely perfect. Seriously, I don’t know how you could have handled the situation any better, considering you were understandably tongue-tied with horror. And what you said was true — instead of living forever on that story, telling everyone about the person who got her fired, and feeling unjustifiably wronged, instead she has to live with guilt and shame. And I bet she suspected that people knew it was her, but couldn’t necessarily tell who. That had to be KILLING her. Not to mention, in the meantime everyone there got a good lesson on customer service so that sort of thing shouldn’t happen to anyone else under that manager’s watch. Getting her fired would have just sent her off to do the same thing elsewhere. She would have learned nothing, and neither would the other employees. But doing it this way has so much more impact.

  19. Okay, this post? Amazing. I cried. I laughed. Honestly — all before my first cup of coffee! While you had no need to (AT ALL), you gave that woman a gift. One she’ll likely not forget, which means you’ve saved someone else from experiencing the same humiliation and sadness. Enjoy your pies, wherever you keep them : ) You rock.

  20. This is most excellent. Hopefully the biggest takeaway is that the shamer has been shamed. Hopefully she learned something about how to treat people. I’ve witnessed a few uncomfortable situations like this in the past (and been the target of a few), and my response has always been unbridled, paralyzing shock. Kudos to you for getting some revenge, while taking the highest road available to you. I am in awe.

  21. A friend of mine who gets asked about her belly said her new retort is: if you don’t see a baby hanging by an umbilical cord from my vagina, just assume I am not pregnant.

  22. I have a similar story.

    Being from a small town, university was the first time I used public transit. When taking the bus, older sister gave me one tip “always get a transfer”. Transfers were good for an hour after the time you got them, and you never knew when you’d get off at the wrong stop or just have to make a quick run somewhere, and they’d save you 3 dollars.

    Being young and away from home for the first time, I clung to this advice like it was a decree from the heavens. My backpack, my pockets, they were constantly full of old bus transfers. Most of them I never used, but it was a tip, when you’re figuring things out on your own tips are valuable.

    The route I had to take home was roundabout, when leaving the school I actually had to ride further away from home and get off at a bus shelter where I could transfer to a bus that would take me to my apartment. One day while I was at this stop I decided to clean out my pockets. I threw away about a dozen old transfers and kept the one with today’s day (03/04). When the driver pulled up at the stop he took one look at the transfer and said “Wait”. The one I’d given him was 04/03. Realizing what had happened I sputtered out an explanation all the while knowing it was going nowhere because the driver was giving me a smug-as-hell /yeah, right/ face. I checked my pockets and my backpack, knowing that I wasn’t going to find any change there, because I had (stupidly) brought exactly the money I needed.

    I got off the bus with tears in my eyes, and rather than dig through the trash I started towards home. The walk took an hour, in the snow, uphill both ways. Okay, maybe not that last one.

    But the worst part of the story was when I got home and called the busline to complain. The operator let me know they’d had complaints about that driver before, and asked if I wanted them to speak with him, and I said yes. And I felt horrible. I really don’t think he lost his job over the incident, he was right, I did have the wrong transfer, even if he was wrong in his thinking that I was some criminal mastermind plotting to save three bucks. But I still felt horrible for complaining.

    But then I thought of a certain cafeteria worker who is always smiling and asking if everything’s okay and the girl at my coffee place who draws happy faces on lids, and I thought, is anyone telling them they’re doing an awesome job? We’re quick to complain when we feel we’ve been wronged, but when someone in customer service is being amazing, we usually just accept their happy-vibes and skip off into the sunset. I called the coffee place next, and the school (it can be really hard to track down a cafeteria worker’s boss) and had very pleasant conversations with a couple supervisors about how great their employees were. I would like to imagine that when it was time to think about raises and promotions those supervisors thought about that call. But at the very least I hope they passed along my praise and the employees were proud of the job they’re doing.

    That was the day that I resolved that any time I had to complain about a worker’s performance, I would find two people who were doing an awesome job and notify their supervisors. I will put twice as much positivity into the world as negativity and I will do my best to spread around the happy vibes.

  23. Bruce Lamesse |

    You are amazing, and I hope I can be as devious, yet graceful, should a situation deserving of revenge fall into my lap.

  24. Your smart did it the right way…But please speak on new lows on tv in the Fat Girl Revenge has to be top 5 worst new shows on tv. The concept is awful and everything is phony but the weight loss…So more power to them for the weight loss…Must Avoid TV people have the show cancelled does not deserve to make it past an aired episode.

  25. Back in 2002, my grandmother died. At the funeral home, relatives I only see when somebody either dies or gets married filed in under the guise of paying respects. One of my mom’s aunts approached me, called me by my sister’s name. My sister is three inches shorter than I am and typically about 50 lbs. heavier. When I corrected her, she shouted out, “You’re Patty?! Oh my God you got so fat!”

    Believe me, it took every ounce of control not to shout back at her.

    I have mirrors. I buy clothes. I am well aware that I have gained the equivalency of a pregnancy but can’t figure out how to stop it. I work out, I have counted points and calories and exchanges and carb grams and I don’t lose an ounce.

    Despite my stunned silence, she wasn’t done. “What happened!? How could you let yourself go like this?”

    I sighed and told her it started with the steroids I was given to fight pneumonia. I gained 22 lbs. in a month. It got worse because I simply don’t know how to lose weight — I never had a problem before.

    “You need to see a doctor immediately. You could be really sick.”

    Yeah, thanks. Eleven years later, those 22 lbs are now 50 extra pounds. I still go to the gym on my lunch hour and I still eat disgusting vegetables (Hate them all) and ration out carbs because I’m not allowed to have them and want to scream every time someone says, “You should try X or Y or Z. I lost 16 lbs just doing this.”

    I end up wasting more money and X or Y or Z never works. I haven’t lost a pound in years.

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