May 25, 2010

A whole month since I've posted? Gah, wth have I been doing with my life?!

I've lost 6 pounds. So now I weigh in the 260's. Hooraaaaay.

I wish I could apply for The Biggest Loser, because they'd whip my ass so hard that I'd lose all of my weight in a couple of weeks. But I'd be the one falling off the treadmill, crying in every episode because "no one likes me" and "I can't do it." Jillian would take me outside where we'd sit on the steps and I would cry. She would tell me that I'm worth it and it's time to focus on me. We would hug, do an impromptu commercial for Wrigley's Sugar Free Gum and Brita water filters, then she would continue to beat my fat ass into oblivion.

I would get sent home for being below the yellow line most likely. I like to think that I'm a likeable person, but if you ask me how I'm doing I'm usually going to tell you all about the problems in my life. Which is also probably why most of the only friends I have are on the interwebz. But even they get tired of me.

I've been trying to lose myself in cake decorating. I'll think I'm doing an okay job until I use The Google to look up some ideas, because then Duff and all of those other superhuman cake decorators make my stuff look like poo. Sure, I put it on Facebook (at my son's request, because EVERYTHING goes on FB, right?) but I don't know if people truly like my cakes or if they feel obligated to say so.

I love seeing picture comments. Love it. But when it's a picture of myself and someone says how pretty I am it's hard to not come back and say "You LIAR!" Because, get real. I know that I am not pretty. If I were pretty I wouldn't have 8,000 chins. Maybe my face is alright but the rest of me is disgusting.

She of the saggy boobs and unibrow.

And since it's summer and nine million degrees out I'm resorting to wearing the dresses I wore last summer--when I was 6 months pregnant. I look the same though, so it doesn't even matter. For all you know, I could have a petrified fetus in there or something, making me look pregnant for the rest of my life.

I had a dream that I got some Shape-Ups shoes. I woke up and had sore calves. So I won't be getting those, although my son did ask his Gigi if I could buy new shoes.

Because "she's the regular boss. You're the boss when Daddy's not here. But when Daddy's here you're not the boss. And Gigi is the boss of everyone."

She said yes, I could get new shoes, and he said "See, Mom? She didn't get on to you!" Thanks, son.

While on the phone with Nana the other night, she asked my son a question. He said "Hm...let me step into my office and think on that one."

Really?

I'm going to go drown myself in buttercream.