Archive for May, 2008|Monthly archive page

Weight rant (because I’m a chick, that’s why)

Ok, I’m pretty OK with my weight.  After battling with bulimia I must say that I am pretty well adjusted, in that me and my at least 8lbs overweight self just donned a tank and booty shorts for tennis.  I try to focus on the positive, which is the fact that at least 4.2 of the “extra” lbs are boobs and booty, which happen to be the first 4.2 lbs that I lose whenever I am at my “ideal weight”.  That said, Puhleae let me have this rant. 

To the super skinny girl with JUST as many kiddos as me, whom plays tennis with me every Wed/Thurs.:  Um, Did you lose a lb a freakin day after you had your child?  You eat as much as me, stress as much as me, and thusly drink as much as me.  Why are you so freakin skinny and hott???  Maybe it’s genetics?  I get that, but why is your sister slightly less skinny and hott as you?  AND, moreover, why (OH, Dear GOD whyyyyyyy) must I sweat for 2 hrs to look like you, only to know in my mind that you have just burned as many calories as me?  Sometimes life is not fair.

To the SUPA HOTT girl I play tennis with every Thurs/Wed who has as many kiddos as me AND weighs as much as I do AND is shorter that me AND carries her weight in “all the right places”:  Why do you mock me with your hawtness? betch.

Lastly, to my BFFEAA since 2nd grade (who I play tennis, blah, blah, blah), why have you always, even through the “freshman 15” maintained a waist to hip ratio of: perfectness:  It is simply not natural to have flawless skin, be a size zero, have a D cup, have a smokin hot ass nice bum, be the sweetest person literally on the face of the earth, AND? be a lawyer who is not only semi-ethical, but also a bad-ass!?!  I love you, but seriously? you’re making me look bad.

I hate tennis.  I quit.

I won’t mind losing all my teeth

I am a connoisseur of all things grandma. 

It have become very apparent to me in the last few years that I have the same eating habits and tastes as a 84 year old woman.  This may have a little to do with the fact that I was basically raised by my maternal Grandmother and paternal Great-grandmother.  I have compiled a semi-complete list of my geriatric cuisine choices:

I love coffee, but easy on the dairy and light to little sugar. 

Mashing anything automatically makes it more appealing to me.

Werther’s Originals.

I love cafeteria style food, oooh, and buffets.  My last birthday was spent at Golden Corral.  My Twenty-Sixth BIRTHDAY!

I reeeeally like jello (red, and sans fruit b/c that is just stupid!  Who puts fruit in their jello?  Stupid, Stupid, Stupid I tell you!)

If it’s stinky (cabbage), slimy (Brussels sprouts), or just plain something you would never eat if your sweet little grandma hadn’t spent all day making it, I probably LOVE it.

Also, I think the things that I don’t eat a lot of such as gum, dairy, popcorn, and sausages that give me heartburn, only solidify my argument that I like the finer nursing home fare.  I know this is all very random, but it struck me with such force today (as I was reaching for a soft peppermint) that I thought I would share.

Um, not so much.

I am becoming a stronger person, learning to live in the moment, and trying to focus on the present and all of the good things the present holds.  But, then sometimes my ego gets the best of me and I have to complain, if now was one of those moments I would probably mention some of the things that have been bothering me lately, some of my pet peeves if you will…

They might sound something like this:

Dude, please don’t prove how fast your car can go from 0-60 in order to pull out in front of me, only to then drive so effin slow that I am late (again) to work.  It’s really unpleasant and I am getting lightheaded from all the deep breaths that I am required to take to ensure that I don’t cuss someone out at work.

Honey, I know that you are jealous that I am out with my girlfriends and you are stuck with your lame hubby and his friends, and I also know that you are ashamed of what you wore out of the house just as much as I am ashamed for you, but you can’t be mad at me for looking fab and you can’t be mad at your hubby and his friends for checking me out.  Go home, change, fix yourself up…and then, if you still want to whisper (not-so-quietly) about someone, try bitching at your hubby, it’s not my fault I’m fab!  Um, I can teach you, but I’ll have to charge.

Dear lady that parked in the handicapped parking space b/c she is heavy and for some reason thinks that makes her handicapped,

We all saw that the trash can was right next to the handicapped parking spot that you parked in.  We also saw you pull out, stop, and then ball up about a gazillion sheets of paper and throw it on the ground.  I’m also glad that you saw me walk withing 2 inches of you, pick it up, and put it in the trash.  The force that I used to deflect you laser beam stares helped me burn an addition 5 calories.  Looks like I’ll be parking in the normal peoples spaces…thanks litterbug!

Lastly, on another traffic note, signs that say “Keep Moving” are typically there for a reason.  For those that may be unclear, Keep moving means that you should stay in a continuous state of moving.  I know it’s a little hard to wrap you brain around, and hell, you can even slow a bit just to make yourself feel better, but in Jesus’ Holy name!  PLEASE KEEP MOVING!!!!!