Thursday, April 8, 2010
Yet another mind blowing rendition of.....
Why do grown men think it is just as sexually and socially acceptable at age 36 as it was at age 15 to grab a girls boob and giggle about it? Why do they think this is some prelude to sex that gets us all hot and bothered? I for one DO NOT like to be mauled like the last cupcake at a Overeaters Anonymous meeting. I would like some romance. Maybe some candlelight, some mood music, a little K-Y His and Hers….anything but the rough groping hand of a man who hasn’t mentally matured past the “girls have boobies” phase.
Secondly, I am seriously considering changing the name of that thing that tells me my weight, from a scale to a “mother-f**king-son-of-a-whore-lying-POS” because this is the name I call it every day when I check in on the level of my fat assedness. I need him to cooperate with me and tell me what I want to hear, and I really, really, want to like him, but he keeps going behind my back when I’m not looking and flipping the script on me and telling me I weigh more than I should. He is like that “awesome” friend that tells you your dress is cute only to mutter under her breath as you walk away, “if by cute you mean, horribly ugly”. Bitch.
Why does my body hate 6” heels? My feet look FABULOUS in them, my legs look longer, and I look leaner, so if my body could just get the memo and catch up that would be super. The worst part is, my body deceives me repeatedly. I put on a pair of these super, killer, very Carrie Bradshaw, walking the runway, heels and my feet say “hey, these are the bomb shit! And comfy!”. And then, I leave the house. Without a backup pair of shoes or flip flops to put on when my toes curl into tiny balls and my feet start to feel like I am walking on a bed made of nails. I go from walking like a Victoria’s Secret Model down the runway to hobbling along like a participant in the Special Olympics who fell and wasn’t wearing a helmet. Not a pretty sight.
Why do men assume that all women wake up looking like a soap actress in the morning. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a chipper person in the morning. I wake up looking like Frankenstein’s bride, I do not like to actually BE woken up, but instead I like to wake up and watch infomercials on mute for a half an hour, and I hate hot morning breath in my face. I am generally cranky for the first 15 minutes, I scratch my ass, I don’t like morning wood poking the side of my leg because that just isn’t going to happen, I fart out all the gas I was apparently holding in while I slept and my breath smells like I ate ass chips in my sleep. Just an FYI for all the men out there that wonder what it would be like to wake up next to me everyday.
Lastly, I am the queen of weird long term goals. One of my bucket list dreams is to travel cross country in an RV with someone who makes me laugh and who I could stand to sit next to for 12 hours a day. I want to wear matching track suits, collect souvenirs from famous diners and truck stops in every state, and take pictures in front of things like alligator farms and giant dinosaurs. Then I want to turn them into a slide show and make all my friends sit through it as we narrate each and every picture ad nauseum until they either pass out from boredom or revoke our friendship license.
Those are my random thoughts for this week. Stay tuned next week for Episode 3 of “Days of My Dysfunctional Over Thinking Life”.