Monday, February 15, 2010

Three Compelling Reasons I Use to Justify Not Exercising

Fat People Pictures, Images and Photos

Every weekend I tell myself I’m going to start working out on Monday and every Monday I take a nap instead.

I obviously have my priorities straight.

Everyone always says really negative things about fat, so I'm going to list three positive things.

1. Loestrin (the birth control that doesn’t make me throw up on a daily basis) has made my boobs borderline amazing.

- Seriously. They’re close to being what I want them to be. Stairs are a little tricky if I try to take them with any amount of speed, but my God the bounce! Losing weight will only jeopardize this love affair I have going on with my boobs. I KNOW that when I lose any amount of weight, it will come out of my boobs. Karma is a nasty hag.

2. If I lose weight, my cheeks won't be so fat and I'll lose my dimply/creasy things when I smile.

- My cheeks have always been pudgy, many people think that it’s endearing and like to pinch or poke them. I think it’s cute sometimes. Other times… I wonder what’s going to happen in ten years when the collagen is really starting to break down in my face and it can no longer support the massive weight of my cheeks and I have jowls. But that is neither here nor there. The thing that is both here AND there is this… my fat cheeks do great things for my smile. When I scrunch my cheeks up into a smile it squishes all of it together and I get these lovely creases around my mouth. My Granny calls them the parentheses of my mouth. Hmm… Since gaining some weight, I have now also developed dimples underneath the corners. I don’t want to lose my creases and dimples. I’m afraid that if I lose weight I’ll lose those bonus points of cuteness and have to start all over.

3. My winter body keeps me warm.

Polar Bear Pictures, Images and Photos
-Dude… bears totally have the right idea. During the summer and fall you just eat and eat and eat and nap and nap and eat and nap some more and maybe steal some honey and piss of some bees, eat the face off of a tourist or two, get to be on “When Animals Attack” and then during the winter… you stay warm. Just. Because. You’re. Fat. It’s like a reward for being so bad ass and awesome. If it’s ok for bears it’s ok for me. If I were to lose this winter body I could waste away and perish in the temperate winters of the South.

Those are three highly compelling reasons to not ever exercise again. Great boobs, cute smile creases, and survival.

Although the bonus chin does tend to cancel out a great deal of all that awesomeness.

And sometimes… my fat attacks me. It literally attacks me and causes pain. It’s generally in the bra fat region of my back but can also sometimes occur in the mid to lower back region, depending on the angle at which I bend.

This is a serious matter. It’s really quite painful and no one ever wants to admit what really just happened… that your fat actually just turned on you and attacked.

You know… one minute you’re standing there and the next you bend over backwards for whatever unknown reason anyone ever bends over backwards in something other than a metaphorical sense, and the next thing you know… your fat has actually doubled back on itself, rolled inwards, and pinched you.

Don’t even act like it hasn’t happened.

Saturday, February 13, 2010

We All Float Down Here...

Shining Pictures, Images and Photos

I could use being snowed in as the perfect opportunity to do some “serious writing” the way Nora Roberts did on that fateful winter’s day when she first put pen to paper in an effort to salvage her sanity and then went on to write an entire library shelf worth of books. But… I have a somewhat irrational fear that it will involve violence with roque mallets, a smashed door, and ultimately end with my icy death in the middle of a hedge maze.

I’m also pretty sure that I just mixed details from the movie and the book, but both were so awesome that I can’t seem to bring myself to care.

This brings me to a point, not THE point, but a point all the same… Literacy… can sometimes be overrated.

Yes, I just went there.

Without books my life would be a sad and meaningless cycle of sleeping, eating, smoking, mindless internet games and hours of mind numbingly stupid television shows.

Except without being literate it would all be a big jumbled mess of frustration because I couldn’t type in web addresses, read the names of TV shows, or figure out how to work the remote.

Ok, that was so not a point, but it’s there now and I’m sorry you had to go through that with me, but it’s done now.

The literacy thing… Back to it.

Without literacy, my life would be nowhere near as enriched as it has been but I would also not have the veritable treasure trove of phobias I currently possess.

Number A: Bath tubs. Now, one could get picky and throw out that Psycho could have given me an irrational fear of bathing devices, but Psycho had very little to do with my current phobia. Stephen King’s “The Shining” has EVERYTHING to do with it though. Well, dammit, the movie did play a factor in it too, but only so much as to give my mind a more startlingly real picture of the horror that I faced while reading the book. Jack Torrance, pre-bat shit crazy stage, decides to check out “the room that must not be entered” because little Danny, pre-psychic talking finger stage, has shown up with some colorful bruises around his fragile little neck and says that the lady in the bath tub did it. The dead lady in the bath tub to be exact, so, still more or less sane Jack enters this room and goes into the bathroom and lo and behold, thar be an arm hanging over the rim of the tub! He pulls back the curtain and Holy Polaris, Batman! There’s a hot naked chick there! Hot naked, but totally alive chick comes sauntering out of the bathtub and tries to seduce poor Jack. She’s slipping him a little tongue and I guess her breast-eses must have felt a leetle strange because he pulls back and… Holy Necrophilia, Batman! Yous be sexually assaulting a zombie slut… who then tries to kill him. This may have had something to do with the final steps into Bat Shit Crazy Jack, but one can never be sure of how they’ll react to making out with a dead chick.

So now, every time I go into the bathroom, any bathroom with a shower, I have to bat at the curtain to make sure there isn’t a dead lady in it who will try to Katy Perry me, turn dead-er, and then try to murder my ass.

Number B: Bath tubs part deux. This next one is actually less bath tub and more drain related. It’s not even limited to shower drains either. Sink drains, floor drains, and especially storm drains. Bitches can’t even sail their paper boats down the flood water for fear of a clown with balloons ripping their arm off and possibly eating you while you’re still alive. Now, “It” gave most people a pretty rational fear of clowns, but for me… it was Pennywise’s preferred mode of transportation/child abduction that got me. I have to admit that I watched the movie when I was a toddler and this may or may not have had an unhealthy influence on my still forming psyche, but still. I tried to read the book as a teenager but had to stop at page 75, after It is seen walking through the river eating the arm pit of a gay man, and hide it until my return trip to the library. Last year I revisited that fear and I finished it (kind of). For Christ’s sake, the book is 1078 pages long, involves a gang bang with 12 year olds, kids being turned into Snack Packs, and around 700 pages of bad writing. You can’t really expect me to read every single word of it. So, this pretty much goes in the “Fears brought on by movies” category, but the book was a lot worse and I didn’t have to look at Richard Thomas’ face the whole time, so I ignore that and throw this into my “Irrational phobias brought on by reading” category anyways.

I have many, MANY, other literature related phobias which I may or may not get into at a later date, but I can safely say that Stephen King is to blame for roughly 85-95% of them. You crazy bastard, I can’t even take a shower or go to the bathroom without worrying that something is going to try to lure me away with the promise of floating down there or that some woman is going to try to turn me into a dead necrophiliac lesbian.