"Love me when I least deserve it, because that's when I really need it. "
-Swedish proverb
Advice: Never quit smoking.
The Skinny, well not actually, but er ah: I knew something had terribly changed when more “brutha’s” started hitting on me. I turned around and took a look to see what they were looking at and there it was. An arse straight out of a rap video – all I need now is a bad hair weave, long fingernails, and too much lip gloss. If I weren’t so lazy, I am certain I could booty bounce, make it clap, and drop it like its hot too. “Hey baby girl – can I go with you?”
More advice: Never put yourself in a situation where you might develop an unyielding desire for homemade rosemary focaccia.
A Little, well actually, a lot extra: Also, I feel like a fresh hot pupusas while walking my dog in my 20% Latin neighborhood. When they speak, they are looking right at my morning tits, minus the bra. “Hey mommy – you can walk me like that dog if you want.”
Even more advice: If you are a food whore and quit smoking, cut back your dining out to twice a week – if you must be on the scene, drink vodka, preferably Ketel One because it burns fat.
Issue: I miss my size 5 clothes, a-cup breasts, narrow hips, and small arse. It’s unnerving to watch my 12 year old daughter wear my favorite boutique dresses and shirts/blouses. *maybe I should start an EBay account and unload some of this stuff*
More Issue/Senseless Ranting: If I thought starting smoking again would drop the extra poundage in the sista girl areas, I’d smoke 2 packs per day. Shit – I’d take a week’s vacation just so that I could smoke 4 packs per day for possible rapid weight loss.
Issue Continued: My hips, full arse, and breasts, have proven to be better attention whores than my forthright personality – I’ve noticed more men looking down at my breasts immediately after they greet me, and I have to, for once, deal with something instead of paying someone else to do it.
More advice: Never poke fun at a sister girl arse – the next one to sprout up for the world to see just might be connected to you. I guess it’s in my genes, but by now, everyone knows they need a new name/title for this attribute…. Juicy Booty: Not just for sista’s anymore.
I’m bloated.
I’m tired.
I’m cranky.
I almost cried watching Emeril present a Mother’s Day breakfast on Good Morning America this morning.
If I saw a parked Hershey’s truck, I’d probably lick the tires.
I’m out of Midol and praying for menopause.