After some serious freak outs and some really loud inner debates, I’ve come to a conclusion: I don’t miss sugar & believe it or not, I don’t miss cheese. What I miss is looking at sugar and cheese and being able to say to myself: “fuckin’ rights I’m going to eat that.”
But it’s been over a week now and things are starting to happen. For starters, I have the whole ‘God Complex’ on the go again (remember when I took up doing the Grouse Grind daily and thought I was the most hard core athlete ever? Yeah… same deal). I’ve gotten professional at saying “no” to Starbucks & sandwich runs, and really good at substituting peanut butter for home-made brownies.
Of course, some bad things are happening as well. The smell of marshmallows makes me salivate in an embarrassing way, I’m now the one who goes out to dinner and has to be like “does your sauce have cream in it, does your bread have wheat in it, and does your cake have sugar in it?” and also, I’m losing weight.
Now don’t get me wrong, I could stand to lose a few lb’s, that’s not the issue. The issue is where the weight is coming from. Namely, the two areas of my body that I would like to GAIN weight. Tits and Ass (capitalized, because they’re statement words, obvs. ) I’m already a 34A & unless the good Lord in Heaven is about to grant me the supermodel body to go with these bad boys, they aren’t really PHYSICALLY ABLE TO SHRINK ANY MORE.
I’m not complaining about the size, really. I got over it when I was 16 and realized I would rather blow 10k on shoes than silicone balloons and self-enforced surgery. It’s just the principle of the thing.
I was talking to a girlfriend earlier in the week about operation bikini bod 2012 and why it’s going to be successful. We have tons of motivation. We want to be the best women we can be & we want to make men want us.
Wait, what?
I said we want to be the best women we can be and we want to make men want us.
That’s what I thought you said.
Now don’t go getting your feminist panties all twisted, hear me out. There’s no motivation quite like a man.
Wait, what?
You’re right, that didn’t quite help my case here. Let me try again.
There’s no motivation quite like having a man choose you… over someone else.
(Can you work with that?) So really, it’s not about man at all, but about other women, and our need as women, to succeed over them. & we all know that nothing motivates more than a little competition.
I would like to know, then, how exactly I’m supposed to win the woman-over-woman competition looking like A FOURTEEN YEAR OLD BOY.
& then it hit me. I best start eating kale for myself and loving everything this body is right now, because it doesn’t matter how much weight I lose or how much spinach I put in my smoothie or whether or not my skin decides to tan or freckle this year: my tits are still going to be small and my ass will never be labelled a “badonkadonk.” The only thing I really have control over is how I shake it.
& the only people who will shake it with me are other women. Which means we have to play on the same team, not against each other. So … in a round about way I guess I’m saying that the only reason you should smarten up your act, get healthy and lose a little weight is not because you want to look good in photos and go home with the hottest guy out of the three but… well… because of the real competition: cancer.
BAM. How linear is my thinking?
xo & yw & tittttyyyyyyys!
