I’m having one of those weeks where it takes every single ounce of will power left in my bones to drive past Taco Bell on my way home at night.
One of those weeks were my job is hard, church is hard, life is hard, and my days are so jam packed that they seem to run into each other like pudding.
One of those weeks where I get home, throw my coat on the floor, poke out my contacts, flop into my bed and talk to my mattress like I’m on an IKEA commercial.
One of those weeks where I’m too tired to even bother crying from the stress of it all. And blogging requires all the slivers of energy I have left. And I want to write about how much I hate everything and everyone, but all those things and ones probably read this.
One of those weeks where spring cannot get here fast enough. And every single Taylor Swift song on the radio annoys the crap out of me. And I don’t even have time to read about the TV I don’t have time to watch.
One of those weeks that cannot end fast enough even if it ended yesterday.
I’m having one of those weeks. And it’s still mostly Monday.
Things people say about my weight that weird me out:
I bet you’re beating off the boys with a stick now.
Umm. Huh? First of all, no. No. I am not. I live in the suburbs, where every man is married with 2.5 kids and a upside down mortgage. Second of all, why wouldn’t I have been beating them off with a stick before?
Keep it up.
What the crap? I lost 54 pounds. How in the name of all that is caloric are you not satisfied? What if I just want to keep it down for a while. Gawd.
Oh. Wow. I didn’t recognize you.
Really? You didn’t? For real? That’s insane. I still have the same eyes, nose and pink purse. You need to look closer next time.
I bet you’ll be married in no time now.
Really? Is that all I needed. You’re probably right. I mean, heck I saw a nice young man at the Wal-Mart yesterday, I bet he’ll marry me, what with the fact that I lost weight and all. Give me a break.
You’re skinnier than me now. You suck.
Umm. In fact, you are the one who sucks. I worked my behind off for the last six months so I could weigh two pounds less than you and you’re JEALOUS? Why don’t you just give up soda for like a minute, lose your stupid two pounds, and we’ll call it all even.
Do you feel healthier?
What does that even mean? It’s like asking if someone feels “30” on their birthday. I feel like Crystal.
Uh. Dude. I LOST 54 POUNDS! I think that should at LEAST qualify me for a, “You look nice today.” How are you not going to say anything?
And now, one that someone said that was perfect.
Your thighs look smaller.
Courtesy of my little sister. Just out of the blue. All, “Your thighs look smaller.” Made me giddy for bathing suit season.
So, umm, when do you guys think either God or Obama will fix the economy? Because I have to say, I’m getting a bit impatient.
It’s been like two years dude.
And for newspapers, it’s been like eleven.
I, for one, wouldn’t mind seeing this crap cleaned up by say, St. Patrick’s Day.
Who’s with me?!
I’ll let God and Obama know first thing.