I'm Fat (and still get laid)

I’ve written an eBook, and it’s called I’m Fat (and still get laid), and it just went live. If you want to
buy it, you can. Just click here.

Spoiler: I totally just wrote and re-wrote those sentences eleventy
million times. This simultaneously feels like absolutely no-big-deal-whatever-I-don’t-even-give-a-shit,
and HOLY FUCK.

Either/or there’s a lot of profanity happening in my imagination about it
all. I know- shock you, right?

Remember that time I met with Penguin about My Heart Beats Only For You (and a few dozen other people) and
afterwards I was all, yeah- so I think
I’m just gonna publish all the things myself, to which everyone in the
world was a bit, yeah but you’re just
saying that, aren’t you?

Well welcome to the house of fun, where I’m going balls to the wall in
seeing what goes down if I do just that. Over the course of this year I’ll be
launching four mini eBooks based on the themes of this here blog: vagina, a
surprising foray into spiritualism and being brave. Also: food. I’ve gotta have
a Fat Bitch book.

I’m Fat (and still get laid) is a short
collection of what I talk about with my girlfriends like, all the time. From
relationships to work stuff, from how to take over the world to biological
clocks and getting laid, these five mini-essays are my declaration of womanhood
as per what I dissect and examine in excruciating detail when I’m down the pub.
That’s how I get my kicks- asking the why about everything Girl in the history
of the world, whilst simultaneously eyeing up the barman.

Chapters include:

- on really
wanting kids but a husband not so much: “Look, all cards on the table,
right now nobody is actually offering to marry me, or to raise a child with me.
So it’s a bit of a non-question, the do
you want to get married, don’t you think your child should have a father
figure? thing. Like asking if I’d like pancakes for breakfast when we’ve
got no flour in.”



- on having casual sex without being a
nob about it: “Sex is basically my hobby. Some people have crafting, others
five-a-side, but I have sex. I do it because a) it’s proper well fun, and b)
because Ann Summers don’t sell a product with ten fingers.”



- on being chubby and unashamedly body
confident: “As a woman who has conducted a very scientific research project
into the inner psyche of sexually active blokes (i.e. has shagged around a bit)
I say, with the sort of confidence normally reserved for Adele when she’s
telling Karl Lagerfeld to do one, that no man has ever seen me in a thong and
then changed his mind about putting his willy inside of me.”



- on utilising vaginas to change the
world: “We have a responsibility. We have a responsibility to every vagina
in Uganda that’s had her clitoris lobbed off in the name of tradition. For
every vagina in China that gets left on a roadside to die as a baby because she
isn’t a boy. To every vagina in India that gets raped with an iron rod for
riding the bus after dusk, to every hijab-wearing vagina in Saudi Arabia that
is forbidden to drive a car, and every vagina in the world that has ever
experienced being told no because she isn’t male.”



- on being the boss of me: “It’s
hard to articulate this kind of talk without sounding hippy-dippy and wholly
naïve, but as my late twenties and I get better acquainted I’m trying really
hard to find the lesson and move on. Carrying upset and hurt is like lugging
around a suitcase of blue cheese: pretty soon it makes everything stink.”

It all sounds pretty good to me, but I’m probably biased on account of the fact that I really like the cover.

The scariest thing about this self-publishing caper,
aside from suddenly needing to say things like “caper”, is asking for help. I’m
typically not very good at it, on account of mostly being on a one-woman crusade
to prove the patriarchy that I’m fine,
thanks. I DON’T NEED ANYONE FOR ANYTHING EVER. But then, that’s not true.
The whole reason I write is because I hope that by sharing my stories others will share theirs too, and so I ask you this:

Tweet me. Facebook me. Email me. TALK TO ME. And, if
you like what you read, share it. Tweet and Facebook and email the mates who
might also enjoy it, so that we can all be buddies who talk about their feelings
together.

Not that I want to gate-crash your Friend Party or
anything... except for the fact that I totally do.

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