Hey, hey, hey!
Today's cereal: Rice Chex and Froot Loops (one bowl just isn't enough, okay?!)
Current Mood: Sleepy
So, I am going to pose a question that will inevitably offend someone. I haven't talked about it enough, but I have this really terrible habit of insulting people--purely on accident!-- when I voice my opinions too quickly without thinking about who I'm talking to. I have lots of classic stories about doing this, and one day I will share some of the best.
But for now, just keep in mind that no offense is intended if you are on the somewhat portly side. What I want to know is this: How do fat people LIVE? Seriously, they should be considered handicapped. There are so many things they can't do, and I am discovering this. I'm no fatty, but this belly is getting ridiculous (And I've still got 3 months to go!). I can't tie my shoes. I can't put socks on. Seeing me try to put on pantyhose could be a long-running sitcom. It's getting hard to shave my legs. I can't get in and out of the car/bed, I've knocked my kid down several times because I can't freakin' SEE him under this thing. And let's not get started on the difficulties that come with "nookie".
Poor, poor fat people. At least I'm giving birth to my fat soon and it will go away.
posted by Beck @ 3/30/2005 10:04:00 AM
4 comments
4 Comments:
I don't really have a fat issue so much as a giant boob issue. Seriously, The Girls get in the way ALL THE TIME. Their greatest contribution (besides getting me things I want) is catching any food before it hits my lap. Nice to have a shelf right there.
OK...so at least "Sarawick" (my new archnemesis) snagged the big boobie issue before I had a chance, and now I am forced to whine about Relief Society arms and dimply knees. There is nothing sexy or rewarding or wonderful about them, they are just there...thwarting my every effort to still look like I could pass for a twenty-something. The big belly eventually produces a shriveled little peanut that eventually poofs out into a squishy little offspring. Besides catching the errant crumb before it lands on the floor, thus eliminating the necessity for the 3 second rule, my DD/E cup chest is my husband's "favorite problem" I have ever had. What good can possibly be gained from "the saggy part formerly known as Triceps" and kneecaps with roughly the same texture as a naval orange peel? This is all you fault, Sarawick!
I'm sorry?
Oh man, and I am walking around with sappy little A's (well, B's when I am pregnant/nursing). I think I am way out of my league here!
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