For the love of all that is holy....can we PLEASE make it stop raining now?? And make it warmer?? Is that too much to ask here??
Seriously dude, if I lived in Alaska or Minnesota or Seattle or somewhere where it was cold and gray all the damn time, I'd have offed myself long ago. Now I know why grunge got its start in Seattle...that place has got to be fucking depressing.
This weather makes me want to just sit on my fat ass and eat, like, chili and gumbo and all this super-fattening food that makes you all warm and fuzzy inside. I mean, who says, "Brrr...it sure is cold out here! Let's go get a salad to warm up!". No one, that's who....except maybe supermodels and we all know how I feel about those girls.
And no, I didn't just say my ass is fat so you'll all say "Oh no it's not! Why, you're not fat at all!". I own it...I have a fat ass....it's just the way it is right now. Yes, I know I could diet and exercise and my ass would get smaller, but I just haven't found the motivation to do so. Most of my clothes still fit, my face doesn't look too terribly fat in pictures and I still feel pretty good. The BIGGEST inhibitor to my getting my ass in gear is that my husband still thinks I'm hot.
Really...that's my measure for when the size of my ass becomes a problem.
I mean, we've totally played the "Would you still love me if I ever got that fat?" game whenever we're out in public and see an enormously overweight person enough for me to know his limits. And I have to say, that man has some pretty open limits....you know, he is a dude, after all. Typically, his standard response is something like "Sure I'd still love you! I just wouldn't be seen in public with you, Tundra.". And then I ask "Well, would you still have sex with me?". And his response is something like "I guess....sex is sex after all. You'd just have to be on the bottom all the time." And then my standard response is "You're an asshole". And then he laughs. And then I laugh. And then we proceed to eat our double jalapeno cheeseburgers and fries..because if we're BOTH fat, then it's a moot point.
So I guess when he says, "Hell no! I'd have left your fat ass about 150 pounds before it got to THAT point!" while eating a grilled chicken salad, I'll know it's time to start the diet.