What a funky week it has been! I most definitely did not see it ending up this way … which is a good thing, because my life tends to be very predictable nowadays.
Here is a little breakdown of the things I learned this week.
☞ Being Freshly Pressed is the shit, the bloggers here are amazing, and I want to own a farm.
Yes, all three of these things belong in the same category. Being Freshly Pressed has introduced me to some pretty awesome bloggers, ones I would have probably never found otherwise. The comments you guys have left me have been extremely entertaining and lovely. I am having (too much) fun reading, replying and checking out new blogs. It’s the most entertainment I’ve had since I almost saw Janet Jackson’s nipple on TV.
Which brings me to owning a farm. It’s always been a dream of mine to own a big house with tons of land that I could stock with rescued animals. I would feed them cotton candy, sing them bedtime stories and love them for eternity.
What does this have to do with blogging? Well, not saying that you guys are animals or that you need rescuing, but I would love to put all you lovely panda’s in a big magical tent (think Harry Potter style). Just picture it. We could not only blog together, but also tweeze each others eyebrows and have ‘best compliment’ awards.
I’m in. Anyone else? No? Darn.
☞ Dessert will always win
Eating dessert for me goes like this: Oh God, I’m so hungry. No, no you will not eat that cake. But why not? Because you’ve got 5000 pounds to lose and that cake will not help. But-But-But, its only one piece. No actually it is never one piece – its one, plus one, plus one, plus the whole thing. Okay fine I wont eat it.
An hour later … the cake is gone.
I diet. Fairly successfully — but only if/when I cut out all foods that taste even remotely good. You bring something sugary into the picture? I start sweating and yelling out, “Why God, whyyyy??” I’m an emotional eater, food tends to be my best friend. But then I learned that if I wanted to live to see my feet, I had to let it go a bit. I lost 20 lbs last year by ‘just saying no’ to my beloved dessert … but I was also in a very bad mood.
This week I came to the conclusion that allowing myself to indulge on the weekends keeps me motivated during the week … but that if it comes down to shoving my face in ice cream or eating a stick of celery, I will choose the ice cream.
☞ Eyebrow tweezing is an unfortunate, but necessary, part of life
Might as well get this out of the way now: Sometimes, I rock a bit of a unibrow. Now, luckily I get away with this because my hair is (fairly) light — therefore people can only really notice if they get super close to me. And I am usually one to keep my distance. But yes, the unibrow sometimes lives on my face.
I am not really into the whole “girly business” stuff. You know, things like applying a face of makeup everyday – wearing matching clothing – facial scrubs - painting toe nails – tweezing. I do shave my armpits, but only because it gets itchy if I don’t. I just don’t find enjoyment in that kind of stuff.
I prefer to be outside frying my skin under the sun while reading a new book (a real book, mind you), or playing Mass Effect 3 hoping somehow that an actual different ending may occur (never happens though) … even melting things on hot burners is preferable to beauty stuff. But alas I have learned, after looking in a highly magnified mirror, that I need to tweeze these hairs regularly. It’s a public service issue.
I figure once every few weeks is a good compromise.
☞ My new bra could be considered a weapon of mass destruction
The ladies (and male cross dressers) will get this one. Know that feeling when you get a new bra and it does magical things to your breasts? I do now. I found this bra in a “free” pile at my local costume shop (that should have been my first clue).
I have real boobs. Which means that they are susceptible to gravity. Which means if I don’t wear a bra (which I usually don’t because I don’t like being constrained … but that’s a story for another day), they won’t live up to most height standards. Ahem. Anyways, I washed this new bra and tried it on.
Suddenly my boobs went from low-resting pancake status to poke your eye out standing. I was amazed and spent a good hour or two trying on different shirts to admire my new look. Like, omg, my boobs are where they are supposed to be! And to top it off, the slight point makes me an almost health hazard, which is super awesome.