Comedienne Mo'Nique, the bold, classy, sitcom star, Queen of Comedy, and two-time NAACP Image Award winner is at it again. This time she proves once and for all that Skinny Women Are Evil. Mo'Nique shares her tales of frustration in a world designed for the skinny, and lets us in on the tricks and manipulation that finally led her to declare the truth about the real weight-challenged. From travel, exercise, and raising kids, to shopping, dining out, and sex, she tackles the everyday things that make life tough for Fabulous and Thick (F.A.T.) girls.
With Mo's handy Thin-O-Meter as a guide, you'll know immediately whether you're dealing with a skinny evil woman whose goal is to control and change the F.A.T., or a cool thin one who's big at heart. As Mo'Nique puts it, if after two bites of food she proclaims, "I'm stuffed," she's evil. If she asks if you're pregnant, and you're not, then chances are she's evil.
Whether you tip the scales at a puny 100 pounds, or weigh in at a voluptuous 225, Skinny Women Are Evil is filled with stories and observations only this comedy heavyweight can bring. So, sit back and get comfortable. After listening to Skinny Women Are Evil, you'll be singing the praises of FATTY girls, too!
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Mo'Nique's portrayal of Nikki Parker on The Parkers has won her two NAACP Image Awards for Best Actress in a Comedy Series. She is currently the host of Showtime at the Apollo. Mo'Nique lives in Los Angeles, CA with her son.Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.:
Can't We All Just Get Along?
The Trouble with Skinny Women
I really wish I didn't have to write this book, but it appears I have no choice. Especially when BIG girls are still subjected to ridicule simply because we've been blessed with a few extra pounds. It's no secret that I am a BIG girl. Always have been. Always will be. Hell, Ray Charles and Stevie Wonder could see that. Which means that the only way I'll ever wear a size six, or even a sixteen, is if you add them together. That's right. I wear a size twenty-two. And I'm proud, because I wear it extremely well. I've never had a problem with my doubles -- double chin and double belly. I've also never had a battle with the bulge. Oh, we may have had a few choice words every now and then, but it was always after some stupid he say/she say bullshit. What I've enjoyed is a lifelong love affair with every roll, every lump, and every curve. And because I love me, I've never felt the need to apologize for being my BIG, BEAUTIFUL self.
But it's hard to be a glamour puss when there are forces in the universe that don't believe BIG girls have a right to showcase our assets. They think we should cover up and wear muumuus. Well, I've got two words to say about that -- hell no! Why should I hide all this loveliness under big-ass tent dresses? It must be showcased as the masterpiece -- of lovely legs, perky breasts, and the dazzling derriere -- that it is.
You probably think I'm just paranoid. And saying to yourself, Mo'Nique, girl, stop trippin'. But I've seen the enemy, even witnessed their schemes firsthand, and I'm convinced that the troops on this mission have one goal in mind -- TOTAL DOMINATION. That's why fighting them will be tough. They're a powerful, nimble, and wicked bunch, and damn it, they aren't about to go down without a fierce fight. The enemy is on a seek-and-destroy assignment for total destruction -- and BIG girls are the targets. You may be wondering, who could be so petty, so treacherous, so damn evil?
Yes, you read right.
And skinny bitches know who they are. If your dress size is in the single digits, chances are I'm talking to you. You're evil and need to be destroyed. I know because for years, I thought they were my friends, but as time rolled on, it soon became clear that these evil bitches didn't give a damn about my feelings. It was always all about them. Well, not if we destroy them, or perhaps trick them with a one-day all-you-can-eat salad special, round them up, and ship their tiny asses off to a sandy island with nothing green on it, just wall-to-wall fried chicken and fast food. That shit would drive them as crazy as they make me and other BIG girls. Don't you hate it when they say stupid shit like, "You need to do something about that gut," and "Isn't that your fourth slice of sweet potato pie?" No, bitch, it's my fifth, and I may go for a sixth. It's idiotic stuff like that and passing the purses and jackets to me whenever we hit the club, like I'm some damn coat-check girl, that makes me hate them. Hello? Men like BIG girls, too. That's probably why we've got brothers standing in line -- plenty of them -- and their skinny asses can't get a return phone call. At the mall, they'd walk fast just to see if I could keep up. So you know what I did? Sat my tired ass down and slowed up the entire shopping day. And they loved to taunt me with skimpy outfits I couldn't possibly squeeze one thigh into. So I'd buy three and sew them together. Bottom line. Skinny women are the most intolerant, competitive, judgmental, shallow, sharp-tongued creatures to walk the face of the earth. They play too many damn games and put the PORTLY down in the process. Just because we like to get our eat on doesn't mean there shouldn't be room in the spotlight for us to shine, too. I guess nibbling lettuce cups and tofu steaks makes folks do some hateful shit.
That's why you won't catch a skinny bitch apologizing for being too damn thin. Hell, no. They eat sugarless cake to celebrate it. Well, if those toothpicks can celebrate their minimal assets, then I'm going to flaunt this mega-masterpiece, too, all 220 pounds of it. Shit, I'm so FLUFFY and FABULOUS that if I were to walk into a room with Iman, Naomi, Tyra, and even that original skinny bitch, Barbie, I'd strut my stuff with the grace, finesse, and attitude of the world's finest high-fashion supermodel. That's right! Those trees haven't got shit on me, except maybe an eating disorder. Yes, I'm HEAVY, but I'm also HEALTHY and HAPPY.
Happy to be a THICK girl in an image-conscious industry who's ready to shake some shit up and squash haters that attempt to box me in. Shoot, there ain't a box BIG enough to hold this gift. Skinny women will not get over at our expense. No more talk shows hosted by skinny bitches who proclaim, "You're too fat to wear that." We've got to put a BIG-ass plan in place to eliminate them. And while it may sound harsh, maybe even cruel, what are BIG girls to do? Get even, of course. Armed with a FULL stomach, and a fuck-them-if-they-ain't-feeling-me attitude, I set out to destroy those who cause FAT folks turmoil, and help other BIG girls tired of hearing, "Are you pregnant?" No, bitch. I'm FAT. It's finally time for us to get some respect. Take our place in the spotlight. Represent. Fight the evil bitches determined to keep us down. But too often, all we hear about is how it's in to be stick-thin. What the hell is so attractive about ribs sticking through skin? Not a damn thing. Now, ribs sticking off the side of a plate, slathered in barbecue sauce, that's a beautiful sight. So is a cute, CURVY girl who knows how to work her shit. Because no one but a dog wants a bone, and even Fido wants one with some damn meat on it. But turn on the television and all you see is bones, like that Ally McBeal, who I think could have used a McMeal from McDonald's. That's probably why her feeble ass used to fall out every week. She was faint from a lack of food. Thank God she's gone.
That's one down and many more to go. It's time for the skinny sense of superiority to end -- for the stronghold to be broken and the grip loosened. Besides, how do those walking knitting needles think they're gonna keep us down? Do they plan to crochet nets to trap us in? Good luck. Because as a BIG girl with an even BIGGER mouth, I'm ready to lead the WIDE way, make a BOLD statement, especially in Hollywood where the skinny starve their way to stardom while that other FAT lady is waiting to sing. Well, let me clear my throat, because this FAT lady is warming up to throw down a PHAT rap called "Skinny Bitch, Give Me the Damn Mic." And I've got a lot to say about how the PLUMP, FULL-FIGURED, OVERWEIGHT -- ah, hell, let's just call it like it is, FAT -- are treated. Yes, BIG girls, I said FAT. But, don't get nervous, because FAT is only a bad word if you allow it to be. What it really stands for is FABULOUS AND THICK. So, the next time someone calls you FAT, just say thank you and keep those pounds moving. Shoot, girl, don't worry about them words. Because we're taking them back and slapping our BIG-ass seal of approval on them. Since when did a woman who possesses the total package -- strength, beauty, and a great body -- become PHAT (Pretty, Hot, And Tempting)? Since a skinny bitch got ahold of the shit. You can dress it up, respell it, and make it stand for whatever you want, but the shit is still pronounced F-A-T. And since we're respelling things, then I say PHAT stands for Pretty, Hot And Thick. So chew on that. They can't hurt us with our own shit.
As you read this book, you'll see a few choice adjectives emphasized in BIG letters. It's not a mistake. Just like us, those words are LARGE and LOVELY for a reason. So get comfortable with the descriptions. Embrace them, my BIG sisters. Things must change, not only in tiny-ass Tinseltown but in every town across America, and now that I'm here, its about to get THICK.
A few years ago, folks doubted that a HEAVY honey could make it in Hollywood. They said I'd never be the star of a show. Well, I've got three words to say about that nonsense -- kiss my . . . well, you know. My motto is either love this BIG ass, or see you later, 'bye. Life is too damn short and food is too damn good to waste time trying to convince folks that I'm worthy of respect simply because the day the good Lord chose to pass out extra helpings of hips and ass, I thought it was a buffet and got in line twice. Okay, maybe it was more like three or four times, but so what. Hell, it was free -- and it looked good.
And isn't that what life is about, anyway, looking good, living well, and eating what you want? You damn right it is. Well, baby, Mo'Nique's got meals to eat, money to meet, sex to get, and skinny bitches to check. Like one skinny agent who told me the best I could hope for in Hollywood were roles as the FAT neighbor, the FAT cousin, or the FAT mother, but never the star. Did she think she was saying something new? Did she really believe this was my first FAT fight? Hell, no. And it damn sure wasn't going to be the last. What she failed to realize is that this star was born long before she stepped foot in Hollywood. I've been waiting all my life for this moment, and I'm not about to let a skinny bitch ruin it. But trying to explain to this bulimic agent that BIGNESS isn't something that just happened to me would take far too long, and so would waiting for her to pull her finger out of her throat. So I told her to stop gagging, move the fuck out of my way, and watch a BIG girl shine. I promise you, my F.A.T. sisters, that together we will conquer small-minds that attempt to limit our abilities. We will be the love interest and the music video hotties. We will be the BIG-assed STARS God meant for us to be. Which means if that Popeye's five-piece chicken dinner (and I'm not talking just wings, either) is calling my name, I'll be able to send some skinny assistant to get my shit. Might even have her fetch me a LARGE strawberry soda, and a slice -- or two -- of sweet potato pie, too. And I better not hear any shit about it.
Folks don't know it, but I will call in some MEATY mamas and stage a BIG boycott if they don't start adding a few more nonsalad items to menus in this crazy town. Fuck losing five dress sizes to fit into Hollywood. Hollywood is going to have to expand to accommodate the millions of BIG, beautiful, talented women out there. All this loveliness is coming -- and I'm bringing Star Jones, Camryn Manheim, Iyanla Vanzant, Loretta Devine, Emme, Queen Latifah, and my girl Oprah -- whether skinny folks like it or not. I'm on a CHUBBY charge and calling on all DOUBLE-DIGIT sisters who are CHUNKY yet FUNKY, FLUFFY and FABULOUS, and refuse to accept size as a limitation to join the struggle. It matters not the creed or color. All that matters is that you're prepared to fight the FAT fight. It's time we begin to give to skinny women the same shit they give to us -- a headache. Don't change your behind, BIG girls, just your mind. And please, eat up, because strength is essential for this mission. If it feels like a Red Lobster evening, order the FATTEST lobster you can get your hands on. But step your FLUFFY ass into that restaurant and do it in the nicest two-piece pantsuit in your closet. Show evil bitches that PLUS-SIZE sisters are about so much more than the sum of our parts.
I began the first part of my life as a nine-pound baby, December 11, 1967, in Baltimore, Maryland, the fourth child born to Steven and Alice Imes. From the time my parents brought me home from the hospital, friends thought they had gotten the wrong baby. Surely this CHUNKY child didn't belong in a slender family of five. Folks assumed what I had was a temporary bout of baby FAT. Well, that was thirty-five years ago, and the baby FAT grew up right along with everything else. There ain't nothing baby about it no more, this is me. As a child, I didn't see too many FAT role models. That is, until Oprah Winfrey came to town. When Miss O became an anchor of the local news, I remember thinking, Wow, who's this sister? She was FAT, she was black, and damn it, even her Afro was HUGE. Girlfriend may have been BIG but she's brilliant. For the first time, I reasoned that if this BIG girl could make it on television, then I could, too. I liked the fact that Oprah could deliver the news with flair and professionalism, then sit down for a fabulous T-bone steak with all the fixings. I was proud, because here was a sister who'd broken through, and she did it in a BIG-girl way -- wearing BIG hair, BIG clothes, and BIG feet too. Finally folks could see that smart people didn't all wear a size six. Some of us wore sixteens. At that point in life, I didn't know what path I'd take to get to the top, but I always knew that I'd be a star, and I pursued entrepreneurial avenues that allowed me to shine. In Oprah, I saw myself.
That is, until the fateful Calvin Klein incident, when girlfriend dieted herself down to nothing and tricked BIG girls. We didn't know whether to eat or not eat. Exercise or not exercise. BIG girls reasoned that if Oprah slimmed down, then, damn it, we had to, too. Especially when she sashayed her happy ass onstage in a pair of Calvin Klein jeans, pulling a wagon of FAT that symbolized all the weight she'd lost. Oprah cheered. The audience cheered. But girlfriend's weight-loss antics didn't move me. It made me mad. What was wrong with representing for SIZABLE sisters? I bet that skinny girlfriend of hers, Gayle, was somewhere in the background cheering her on, too. If some shit is amiss, there's usually a skinny bitch behind it. All at once, Oprah went from being a member of the BIG and BEAUTIFUL to the skinny and skeletal. Since Miss O had abandoned us, someone else would have to champion the BIG cause. So I decided to take up the FAT fight, blow the whistle, and divulge the wicked tricks of the skinny.
I first recognized skinny schemes on the playground in elementary school. I may have been CHUBBY, but my parents told me from an early age that I could do whatever I set my mind to. In fact, my father, bless his heart, told me I was the prettiest little girl in the world. I believed him then -- and still do. But those skinny little girls were cruel. Every day it was some new trick. First they accused me of kicking the ball too hard, then complained there wasn't enough room to play in the sandbox with me in it, and snickered if I even ventured toward the monkey bars. They called me Jelly-Belly, Shamu, and even CHUNKY Butt, and piled up on one side of the seesaw because they swore it was impossible to get down with me on the other side. (Some of your eyes may be filling up with tears from the memories, but don't cry, BIG girls. Just hold on, because there's a new sheriff in town.) I may have been BIG, but those evil monsters hurt my little feelings. And since they wouldn't let me in the clique, I had no choice but to settle the score. If it was war those tiny tots wanted, then damn it, it was war they were gonna get. With the seesaw as a launching pad, I got those skinny bitches in the air, then jumped off and watched as they tumbled to the ground like blocks. Just because we had to shop for my school clothes in the HUSKY girls department didn't give them the right to tease me, or snicker at the submarine sandwich, Cheetos, Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and Twinkies my mother packed in my lunch every day. Shit, it took a lot to keep this body powered.
By the time I got to Milford Mill Academy High School, those skinny little girls had grown into skinny cheerleaders. And every year was the same old story. I'd try out for the squad, only to be told, "Mo'Nique, you were great, but we decided to go with someone else." Damn it, do you know ho...
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Book Description Simon & Schuster Audio, 2003. Audio CD. Book Condition: Good. Abridged. Ships with Tracking Number! INTERNATIONAL WORLDWIDE Shipping available. May not contain Access Codes or Supplements. Buy with confidence, excellent customer service!. Bookseller Inventory # 0743529774