Can I just be Paula Deen?

I'm tired.  Not a new development, I know, but today I am particularly tired of caring about how I look.  I am tired of trying to eat right and exercise and wear outfits that walk the fine line between "I'm trying to hang onto my youth by shopping at Abercrombie" and "I don't care anymore and I bought these slacks because they have an elastic waistband".  There are plenty of women who are plus-sized and love life.  Paula Deen is my favorite example.  Paula is a very successful caterer and cookbook author with a popular show on Food Network.  She cooks amazing things full of butter and mayonnaise in the kitchen of her eight million dollar house in Atlanta.  Paula wears large, figure obscuring button-down shirts made of luxurious fabrics and, I'm sure, shops at Eileen Fischer.   I'm also sure she doesn't berate herself for eating half a box of goldfish crackers and three granola bars as I am currently doing.

My favorite part of the show is Paula's husband.  She cooks him great, fattening meals and they chat and pose lovingly for the camera.  You can tell he really adores her and thinks she's pretty damn hot.  I have seriously asked my husband, "Can I just be Paula Deen?"  His answer, "Go right ahead, but don't expect too much sex."  Killjoy.

Maybe I'm over-simplifying her life.  I'm sure she has the same crises we all do when we have to get dressed up for an event.  Maybe she has high cholesterol or high blood pressure.  I know eating healthy and being fit are the keys to a long life, blah, blah, blah, but damn, I am so tired of caring.  I want to eat as much as I want of terrible things and lie on the couch watching Bridezillas.