Imitation is the sincerest form of fattery- ranting about hammate Friend from high school, now my ham-mate (it's only for this summer, then I'm out) is obese and short. I used to be overweight in high school, now I am between an high 20 and low 21 BMI. My goal is  to get to an 18.5-19 bmi, and I think I can do it this summer if I really stick to my workouts and fitness stuff. I was raised by abusive fats, so I never learned how to be healthy, how to cook, or how to portion size. In the past year, I've learned a LOT about it all. Right now I'm working to make sure I've got enough protein in my low-cal diet.  I have learned the hard way that anything Fatty Boom Boom cooks will give me curled-on-my-bed stomach pains for hours because it's so full of grease and she dumps the entire fucking spice cabinet on top of more grease, cheese, and other rich shit. I am at the point where I'm just going to refuse to eat anything I didn't prepare. It's not safe. Swollen sausage shortie likes to tell me that my food is tasteless, that I "barely cook an ingredient and don't season it and then just eat it." Of course, this is false. The red, huffing lardabeast has killed her tastebuds and won't register anything reasonable as food. I made a spicy shrimp dish (marinade shrimp for the afternoon in siracha, garlic, lemon juice, and soy sauce, cook in pan 2-3 minutes each side, salt/pepper/parsley to taste) and had some leftovers up for grabs. She decides that she's gonna eat them. Fucking mayobag announces that she is going to eat them as fast as possible and then down a glass of milk because she doesn't like spicy things. Then why did you opt to eat my cooking, butter-for-brains? She likes to announce that she wants to "get healthy, but not lose any weight." But I know the truth: She has ballooned even worse than before from a couple years of college. She has gone up a clothing size and it shows because she's very short and wears a size large. She buys clothing smaller than her current size, telling me she's going to "lose weight in her arms" so she can wear the clothes- not that they don't fit right now, because they totally do, but they would fit better if she lost some weight in her arms, you know? I just nodded. If I told her you can't spot-reduce, she'd start crying again. The amount of extreme denial and doublethink is astounding. She watches me, and I have noticed it. She takes a look at what I am eating and copies it, only shitty and fat. If I have a tuna salad (made with greek yogurt), she has a full fat mayo tuna salad on high-calorie bread with cheese on top. Then, she struts around the kitchen, all proud of herself for being "healthy." I measure out all of my portions using measuring utensils. She makes fun of me for it and tells me to just eyeball it/ brags about how she actually knows how to cook and doesn't have to measure any more. (I'm trying to learn how to cook, but I think I've gotten pretty good.) But I've seen her getting out the measuring set, and I see more measuring cups in the dirty dishes. She's measuring her food now, just like I do. Too bad it means nothing if you don't know what portion size to measure for. There's other things, too. Ever since high school, this beetus queen has had a thing where she copied most everything that I did- if I listened to a band, so did she. If I dressed a certain way, so did she. If I did anything, she did it, too, only shittier because she would never look into anything for herself or find her own inspiration or make anything her own. It used to be that we had great conversations despite this constant annoyance, but we just don't get along any more. She is fat and lazy and PROUD of it (or at least claims to be), and I am learning that I love the outdoors and being active. There is just nothing there anymore to mask the anger and extreme discomfort I feel when I notice that everything I love and care about is being slowly encased by a cottage-cheese textured bag of pure grease. It makes me very angry and hateful. I want it to stop, but it will not until I move out at the end of the summer. Until then, all I can do is rant elsewhere and make thinness and fitness and outdoorsiness into more of who I am because those are things that hammate will never touch with her greasy, inflated, red and blotchy hands.