I finally got my hair done. Imagine Catherine Zeta-Jones in Chicago. Now substitute a flat chest, bony ass, chicken legs, and a skin tone the color of death. Yeah, I am smokin' hot. I'm just glad to have the large mass of hair gone. I am still growing it out, but anyone who has done this knows that sometimes you have to get some crap cut off to make the process as pretty as possible. Unfortunately, I left my brush in Austin and haven't had a chance to replace it since I worked late tonight. So I don't really know how it will look when I try to do it for real.
In other news, my post-move weight loss is starting to freak me out a little. Small women generally don't complain much about their weight because other women may be tempted to punch them. I don't have any girlfriends within punching distance, so I'll just go ahead and bitch about it. The thing is that small women are generally just as paranoid about their figures as other women - we just happen to want a bigger everything rather than a smaller everything. And then there's skinny-fat - when you're small but have a relatively prominent gut. That one really sucks. Normally I am okay being small because I am just small. My weight can go up or down by 10 or 15 pounds and I am still pretty much the same size, which is weird to me; maybe my body has a gift for distribution. But I think today I may have caught a glimpse of my sternum. It could have been weird lighting in the elevator, but it still weirded me out. Nicole Richie isn't my hero. So tomorrow I shall go to the grocery store and load up on fattening, preservative-laden fare. I should probably start eating something than animal crackers for lunch. But I haven't been much of a lunch person in a long time. I find lunch distracting. It disrupts my groove at work and I inevitably experience a mid-afternoon crash. Plus, I am crazy cheap and don't really want to eat sandwiches every day. If only there was a drive-thru close to me so that I could easily gorge myself on chicken nuggets and a cheeseburger, a classic and favorite fast-food combo.
Of course, in a few years I will probably be suffering from the almost inevitable problem of a formerly small woman whose metabolism comes to a screeching halt but who has no clue how to count calories or fat grams and who has no desire to exercise.
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3 comments:
Just because you're not within punching distance now doesn't mean you won't be within punching distance later . . . !
Tell Jamie to send you Thanksgiving leftovers!
Wow, Seedless Grape, all 90 lbs of her, is threatening to beat you up for complaining about being too skinny. . . . You gals.
Anyhow, whether you like it or not, I'm going to pretend that you've got a bucket of this sitting on your desk, from which you eat a raw scoop or two every hour.
Considering your location, I think you should have a bucket of this sitting on your desk at all times.
When you said you left your brush in Austin, I thought for a second you meant that you left it there when you moved. I was picturing you with hair that hadn't been brushed since August. I'm a little slow.
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