So here's the deal. I'm flying out to Arizona in a few days to see my parents. I wanted to lose about 10 pounds before I get there because ever since I told my mom and dad in November that the Captain and I were on a lifestyle change" and they're all "Are you less fat yet?" and I'm all "No not yet" and they're all "That's okay we still love you". Which basically means they kind of love me a little less but they can't say that because that would be bad parenting.they've been all "So how's the diet coming?" and I'm all "It's not a diet, it's a
Yeah, I haven't lost a damn pound. I went to the doctor and whined about it and she's all "Are you exercising?" and I'm all "Fuck yeah I am!" and she's all *stare* and I'm all "I so totally am!" and she's all "How many days per week?" and I'm all "Ummm...five?" and she's all *blink* and I'm all "Four?" and she's all *foot tap* and I'm all "Maybe three times? A lady? Hahahaaa, get it?" and she's all "You need to exercise every day" and I'm all "For reals?" and she's all "Yes" and I'm all "Isn't there a pill I can take instead?" and she's all "Only if you want a heart murmur and kidney failure" and I'm all "Hmmm..." and she's all "I'm serious." and then I jumped out the window because I'm sorry but life isn't worth living if I have to spend 30 minutes of each day walking around and shit.
So then she was all "It will be very difficult for you to lose weight because of your asshat thyroid". Except maybe she didn't say "asshat" but whatevs. That's totally what she meant. So then I basically begged her to up my medication dosage and she totally wouldn't because according to her, my levels are normal. So I decided to get back at her by not exercising at all and eating everything within my reach for two weeks straight. Take that, sucka!
And now I have to get on an airplane and go see my parents and listen to my mom talk about how maybe I should speak with my oldest sister because she lost a bunch of weight and doesn't she look amazing and blah blah blah . Awesome.
Also? My face has decided to explode into an angry collection of red, itchy patches. Captain Carl thinks it's , but I'm pretty sure it's from breaking down and finally buying a new bra that cost me $60 (fuckkk!) and now my face is protesting because my boobs are totally gonna get even more attention now. Well fuck that shit, face. You aren't the boss of me, face! I'm going to the dermatologist next week because I'll be damned if I'm giving my mom another thing to criticize about me. Oh honey, it never used to bother me that you were chubby because you had such a cute face...but now....oh dear.
I took this picture of myself in the car the other day because my hair was totally cooperating and being super cute and my face didn't look too fucked up because I totally punched those red itchy spots in the nards with five pounds of antibiotic cream and six pounds of cover up . I should be a doctor....of awesome! Ya feel me? Yeah you do! Up top!
Meh....I got nothin' today. I'm too busy scratching my forehead.
The Trauma of Being Laid Off
1 year ago