Well, as you all know, I have a ton of favorite things. In fact, the list of things I love far exceeds the list of things I hate. Sometimes.
Last week, I did something I rarely ever do = I opened a spam email. It was just sitting there, with a subject line that read: jade.pleming@gmail.com, we've got a free gift for you. It was asking for it. I love free gifts! So I read it. It was some email crap from a company called e.l.f. (eyes, lips, and face) cosmetics - and they were going to GIVE me a free bronzing powder.
Well, holy shit. I love bronzing powder. So I browsed the website to see if I could find anything I wanted to order so that I could claim this free gift. (By the way, yes, I realize that nothing in this world is free and the whole point of getting something "free" when you have to buy something to get it is a little ridiculous, but I got caught up in the moment.)
I realized that all of the cosmetics on this site were only one dollar each! Now, I was wondering; are they trial sizes? Crap makeup? Somebody's idea of sick joke? So I started reading reviews and found out that they are legit, the quality is so-so, and a lot of people are happy with them. So I ordered 4 products: mascara, eye-liner, pressed powder, and nail polish. I received my order within 2 days. The only unfortunate part is that since I'm in the UK right now, I had to order off the UK site, which was not offering the free bronzer with purchase. Lets just ignore that, though.
So for something like 8 pounds, I received some pretty badass makeup delivered to my door in 2 days. NICE.
Second thing on my awesome list is Bollywood dancing. My fiance ordered a Bollywood dance workout dvd from amazon a few days ago and that just came in, too. I couldn't start it on the day it arrived because my period was RAGING and my cramps were just about fucking unbearable, but I started it today and I gotta say: its fun, but it ain't easy.
I give props to all you Bollywood chicks out there who can shimmy like rockstarts while maintaining that seductive eye contact and keeping your fat rolls from jiggling too much. Kuuuuudos!
Practice makes perfect, though. The instructor lady's name is Hemalayaa something or other and she's pretty good. I enjoyed it enough that I'll probably do it again tomorrow.
Now if you'll excuse me, the sun is shining in Britain, which is a rare occurance, so I've got to go soak up some rays and pretend I'm on the beach in Greece - which is always where I'd rather be.
For those of you who would like to check out the makeup site - here you go: www.eyeslipsface.com.
Syonara, suckers!
Monday, 1 June 2009
Wednesday, 20 May 2009
Death by Carbs
I need to lose 20 lbs. I need to cut out carbs for a few weeks, but fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck, I don't want to.
In fact, I would rather DIE than give up carbs. Well, okay, maybe I wouldn't rather DIE, thats a bit extreme, but I am really really REALLY not looking forward to this.
I've been thinking lately about my diet. I'm vegan, obviously, but I've always leaned in the direction of carbs, pretty much as far back as I can remember. Living in England and being vegan isn't that easy, I will admit, there are a lot of people that think vegans can eat fish. (Yes, I'm totally serious.) When I'm living in Austin, its a lot easier to get ahold of yummy vegan things like breakfast tacos, vegan burgers, mock chicken salads, etc...basically all of the shitty, fatty, crap vegan food that isn't any healthier than animal products, but it says "vegan" on it, and it tastes good, so that makes it ok. I don't like this attitude I have developed. I have become a vegan junk food junkie! Shit!
This has to stop.
It is so hard to find a happy medium between being a total fatass and enjoying food. I love to eat. I write about food and cook for a living, so what the fuck? How am I supposed to cut out all the things I love in the name of being thin? I guess it just needs to be done. I remember when I read "Skinny Bitch" for the first time, before going vegan. Things made so much sense, like eating fruit for breakfast - why am I not doing that? Because toast with a fuckton of butter just tastes so yummy in the morning. Because its easier to throw some vegan poptarts in the toaster while half-asleep than it is to cut up some fruit and put it in a bowl. But lets think about what is better in the long run. Fruit, duh.
I've got to stop being so impulsive. My mother-in-law recently told me that I'm impulsive. At that very moment, I had the sudden urge to punch her in the face. I think that might be proof that she's right. Shit, I hate that feeling.
Ok, so - lets get started. From this point, all suggestions, comments, and discussions are welcome...as long as its all positive.
In fact, I would rather DIE than give up carbs. Well, okay, maybe I wouldn't rather DIE, thats a bit extreme, but I am really really REALLY not looking forward to this.
I've been thinking lately about my diet. I'm vegan, obviously, but I've always leaned in the direction of carbs, pretty much as far back as I can remember. Living in England and being vegan isn't that easy, I will admit, there are a lot of people that think vegans can eat fish. (Yes, I'm totally serious.) When I'm living in Austin, its a lot easier to get ahold of yummy vegan things like breakfast tacos, vegan burgers, mock chicken salads, etc...basically all of the shitty, fatty, crap vegan food that isn't any healthier than animal products, but it says "vegan" on it, and it tastes good, so that makes it ok. I don't like this attitude I have developed. I have become a vegan junk food junkie! Shit!
This has to stop.
It is so hard to find a happy medium between being a total fatass and enjoying food. I love to eat. I write about food and cook for a living, so what the fuck? How am I supposed to cut out all the things I love in the name of being thin? I guess it just needs to be done. I remember when I read "Skinny Bitch" for the first time, before going vegan. Things made so much sense, like eating fruit for breakfast - why am I not doing that? Because toast with a fuckton of butter just tastes so yummy in the morning. Because its easier to throw some vegan poptarts in the toaster while half-asleep than it is to cut up some fruit and put it in a bowl. But lets think about what is better in the long run. Fruit, duh.
I've got to stop being so impulsive. My mother-in-law recently told me that I'm impulsive. At that very moment, I had the sudden urge to punch her in the face. I think that might be proof that she's right. Shit, I hate that feeling.
Ok, so - lets get started. From this point, all suggestions, comments, and discussions are welcome...as long as its all positive.
Thursday, 26 February 2009
Your Problems vs. My Problems
Recent scenario - guy owes me £190. Guy calls me to confirm amount he owes and the phonecall goes like this:
guy: So I owe you £190.
me: Yep.
guy: Hmm, I guess I'll need to go to the cash machine.
me: Yes, I think that would be in order.
guy: Hmm, and the cash machine will only dispense money in quantities of 20.
me: Yes, thats usually how it works.
guy: Well, hmm, I don't suppose you would have change?
me: No, sorry, I'm broke at the moment.
guy: Ah, well, hmm....uhhh....just...uhhh...well, I'll figure it out.
Does anyone else see a totally unnecessary conversation here? That could have saved us both about 5 minutes. In my life, I could do a lot of things in 5 minutes, but listening to you work out your problems over the telephone isn't on the list of hopeful future experiences.
There seems to be a problem (no pun intended) with people today not being able to distinguish their problems from other's problems. In that case, his problem would have been that he owes me money. My problem is that he owes me money. We actually SHARE a problem. His secondary problem is that he owes me an amount that cannot be automatically dispensed by a cash machine. I do not have anymore problems. My problem stops at "you owe me money". I will, however, have a new problem if I am not paid. And so will he. But working out your problem of not having the right amount while wasting my time is only creating a new problem for me: I don't have time to listen to it, nor do I want to.
The thing is, I don't give a flying fuck if you can't get £190 from a cash machine. I don't care if you go to the corner store and get change for £200, if you magically turn a £20 note into a tenner, or if you give up and give me the £200 because you obviously have trouble with this sort of thing. I don't care. Just pay me. Fuck YOU, pay ME.
Your problems vs. My problems.
guy: So I owe you £190.
me: Yep.
guy: Hmm, I guess I'll need to go to the cash machine.
me: Yes, I think that would be in order.
guy: Hmm, and the cash machine will only dispense money in quantities of 20.
me: Yes, thats usually how it works.
guy: Well, hmm, I don't suppose you would have change?
me: No, sorry, I'm broke at the moment.
guy: Ah, well, hmm....uhhh....just...uhhh...well, I'll figure it out.
Does anyone else see a totally unnecessary conversation here? That could have saved us both about 5 minutes. In my life, I could do a lot of things in 5 minutes, but listening to you work out your problems over the telephone isn't on the list of hopeful future experiences.
There seems to be a problem (no pun intended) with people today not being able to distinguish their problems from other's problems. In that case, his problem would have been that he owes me money. My problem is that he owes me money. We actually SHARE a problem. His secondary problem is that he owes me an amount that cannot be automatically dispensed by a cash machine. I do not have anymore problems. My problem stops at "you owe me money". I will, however, have a new problem if I am not paid. And so will he. But working out your problem of not having the right amount while wasting my time is only creating a new problem for me: I don't have time to listen to it, nor do I want to.
The thing is, I don't give a flying fuck if you can't get £190 from a cash machine. I don't care if you go to the corner store and get change for £200, if you magically turn a £20 note into a tenner, or if you give up and give me the £200 because you obviously have trouble with this sort of thing. I don't care. Just pay me. Fuck YOU, pay ME.
Your problems vs. My problems.
Thursday, 22 January 2009
Kid Rock is a Fucking Idiot
You know, there really isn't a need for a post once you get past the title. That pretty much sums it all up in 6 words.
I was just watching E! News (I know, but its so much more interesting than BBC right now). They were showing footage of the Inaugural Ball and apparently Kid Rock was there, I guess he performed. Dunno who was stupid enough to think that was a good idea, but apparently there are a few idiot republicans left in the party decision-making.
E! News asks him something (you can't understand what they say, but it something to the effect of, "How are you enjoying the party?") and he replies with this jumbled and mumbled bullshit response of, "ohhhh you know, I talked to Obama's wife, I mean, Mr. and Mrs. President and yeah....and you know....its a good time...".
What the fuck, dude? Can you like, NOT be intoxicated during Obama's party? Seriously. That shit is rude. And while I'm on the subject of rude, lets talk about his new song. You all know the one. You may have heard it before. Its called "Sweet Home Alabama" and it was written about 35 years ago by a group called Lynard Skynard. Don't waste your time looking for it - if you've heard it before, you know what I'm talking about. Just because Ronnie Van Zant is dead doesn't mean there's an opening for a new, confederate flag-waving retard to take the stage.
Go home. Nobody wants you.
I was just watching E! News (I know, but its so much more interesting than BBC right now). They were showing footage of the Inaugural Ball and apparently Kid Rock was there, I guess he performed. Dunno who was stupid enough to think that was a good idea, but apparently there are a few idiot republicans left in the party decision-making.
E! News asks him something (you can't understand what they say, but it something to the effect of, "How are you enjoying the party?") and he replies with this jumbled and mumbled bullshit response of, "ohhhh you know, I talked to Obama's wife, I mean, Mr. and Mrs. President and yeah....and you know....its a good time...".
What the fuck, dude? Can you like, NOT be intoxicated during Obama's party? Seriously. That shit is rude. And while I'm on the subject of rude, lets talk about his new song. You all know the one. You may have heard it before. Its called "Sweet Home Alabama" and it was written about 35 years ago by a group called Lynard Skynard. Don't waste your time looking for it - if you've heard it before, you know what I'm talking about. Just because Ronnie Van Zant is dead doesn't mean there's an opening for a new, confederate flag-waving retard to take the stage.
Go home. Nobody wants you.
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
$15.88creditreport.com Pt. 2
On Monday, I got on the horn and called my bank. Wells Fargo has the most friendly customer service of any bank I've ever used, and believe me, I've had a few accounts in my day. I explained that I had not authorized this charge and the woman on the other end was very helpful with helping me fill out a claim over the phone. She then removed the charge and the overdraft fee, which shocked me that it was so easy, but hey - I'm not complaining. I hung up feeling good, but still ready to chew the ass off of whoever I could get on the phone at freecreditreport.com.
When I checked the online forums regarding this scam site, one of the things mentioned by advice-givers was that you need to call between certain hours, and since I'm in another time zone, I patiently waited until it was time to call in and rain down fury.
The woman who answered sounded like a redneck. I swear to you, she was probably answering the phone from the living room of her trailor house. I told her I wanted to cancel whatever was charging my credit card and she said, "Well, ma'am, when you did yer credit report on our website, was everything accurate?". I said, "What? What do you mean? Are you referring to the information I gave you or the information you gave me regarding my credit?"
"Well, ..........................................everything. All the infermaashun. Wuz it accurate?"
At this point, I'm so confused. I tell her I don't know what information she's talking about, but everything I entered into the site was correct and everything I got regarding my credit could have been Joe Blow's credit info for all I know, because I haven't ever given enough of a damn to check it before. Then, she explains to me that she can cancel my membership, but that she should warn me first that there is an alert on my credit and she can't tell me what that alert is, but that I shouldn't cancel because they could help me find out whats going on. So I explain to her that I don't care. I am mad that they charged me without asking. I want whatever the membership is to be cancelled and I want a refund.
Well, then she explains that no refund can be given because "it saaaays two times on the website in regular size print that if you don't cancel yer membership in seven days, they will bill you for monthly credit monitoring".
This is a battle I did not technically win. I cancelled the membership and am thankful that my bank was cool enough to refund it. But I don't think they should have to. I think freecreditreport.com should adminster the refund....and then I think they should all go to hell.
Moral of the story is: don't check your credit report. Its a true pain in the ass.
When I checked the online forums regarding this scam site, one of the things mentioned by advice-givers was that you need to call between certain hours, and since I'm in another time zone, I patiently waited until it was time to call in and rain down fury.
The woman who answered sounded like a redneck. I swear to you, she was probably answering the phone from the living room of her trailor house. I told her I wanted to cancel whatever was charging my credit card and she said, "Well, ma'am, when you did yer credit report on our website, was everything accurate?". I said, "What? What do you mean? Are you referring to the information I gave you or the information you gave me regarding my credit?"
"Well, ..........................................everything. All the infermaashun. Wuz it accurate?"
At this point, I'm so confused. I tell her I don't know what information she's talking about, but everything I entered into the site was correct and everything I got regarding my credit could have been Joe Blow's credit info for all I know, because I haven't ever given enough of a damn to check it before. Then, she explains to me that she can cancel my membership, but that she should warn me first that there is an alert on my credit and she can't tell me what that alert is, but that I shouldn't cancel because they could help me find out whats going on. So I explain to her that I don't care. I am mad that they charged me without asking. I want whatever the membership is to be cancelled and I want a refund.
Well, then she explains that no refund can be given because "it saaaays two times on the website in regular size print that if you don't cancel yer membership in seven days, they will bill you for monthly credit monitoring".
This is a battle I did not technically win. I cancelled the membership and am thankful that my bank was cool enough to refund it. But I don't think they should have to. I think freecreditreport.com should adminster the refund....and then I think they should all go to hell.
Moral of the story is: don't check your credit report. Its a true pain in the ass.
Sunday, 18 January 2009
$15.88creditreport.com
A couple weeks ago, I was thinking...seeing as how its the new year and all, I should probably do something responsible to start the year off in good form. So what do I do? Check my credit score.
I'm sure you all can guess what website I used. It could only be that website that offers those catchy jingles on the TV commercials. You know the one..."shoulda gone to freeeeeeeeeee credit report dot com, I coulda seen this comin at me like an atom bomb.......". Note the "free credit report" part. I am such a sucker. That guy that sings the songs looks like a complete dildo, too.
So, because I'm an idiot, I go on the site, check my credit, which - by the way - sucks. But hey, at least I did what I said I would do. I said I would check my credit. Never said I'd do anything about it just yet. I thought it was a little strange that they had me enter my bank info on the site, but hell, I don't know anything about this shit...for all I know, they could need a DNA sample to run a credit check. So I gave it to them. Not any money in the account anyway.
Weeks have gone by. I haven't even given freecreditreport.com a thought...until today. I had to check my bank balance on my USA account because I'm waiting for a refund from travelocity.com to come through (thats a whole other bitchfest, but I'll get to that later). I log in and see that my account is 58 dollars in the NEGATIVE. Not cool. I start investigating and I see this: CIC*Triple Advantage 877-4816825 CA, and a charge of $15.88.
"Um, excuse me, who the FUCK are you?", I'm thinking, as I stare at the unknown party responsible for sending my account into the negative. There was barely any money in the account, so when this went though, the bank was nice enough to charge a $35 overdraft fee to boot.
I copied and pasted the info in my account to google and it pulled up page after page about the freecreditreport.com scam and how they offer (and advertise) free credit reports and all that shit, but that they charge a certain amount to your bank account every month for "credit monitoring". Well, no, thank you. Obviously, if I have to find the FREE way to check my credit, what makes you think I can afford to pay you to monitor it?
So tomorrow I'm calling them and demanding cancellation and a refund. This is total bullshit. Stay tuned for part 2...
I'm sure you all can guess what website I used. It could only be that website that offers those catchy jingles on the TV commercials. You know the one..."shoulda gone to freeeeeeeeeee credit report dot com, I coulda seen this comin at me like an atom bomb.......". Note the "free credit report" part. I am such a sucker. That guy that sings the songs looks like a complete dildo, too.
So, because I'm an idiot, I go on the site, check my credit, which - by the way - sucks. But hey, at least I did what I said I would do. I said I would check my credit. Never said I'd do anything about it just yet. I thought it was a little strange that they had me enter my bank info on the site, but hell, I don't know anything about this shit...for all I know, they could need a DNA sample to run a credit check. So I gave it to them. Not any money in the account anyway.
Weeks have gone by. I haven't even given freecreditreport.com a thought...until today. I had to check my bank balance on my USA account because I'm waiting for a refund from travelocity.com to come through (thats a whole other bitchfest, but I'll get to that later). I log in and see that my account is 58 dollars in the NEGATIVE. Not cool. I start investigating and I see this: CIC*Triple Advantage 877-4816825 CA, and a charge of $15.88.
"Um, excuse me, who the FUCK are you?", I'm thinking, as I stare at the unknown party responsible for sending my account into the negative. There was barely any money in the account, so when this went though, the bank was nice enough to charge a $35 overdraft fee to boot.
I copied and pasted the info in my account to google and it pulled up page after page about the freecreditreport.com scam and how they offer (and advertise) free credit reports and all that shit, but that they charge a certain amount to your bank account every month for "credit monitoring". Well, no, thank you. Obviously, if I have to find the FREE way to check my credit, what makes you think I can afford to pay you to monitor it?
So tomorrow I'm calling them and demanding cancellation and a refund. This is total bullshit. Stay tuned for part 2...
Saturday, 17 January 2009
Finding Your "You-Q"
So, along with at least half of the female population, I have made it my New Years Resolution to get back in shape (assuming I was ever really in shape to begin with...) and slim down to a size that I feel comfortable at. Actually, being "fit" and "in shape" has nothing to do with it. Slimming down to a size I feel comfortable at is bullshit, too. I'm not trying to run a marathon. And lets face it, people, nobody is 100% comfortable at any size. In a nutshell - I just want to look smokin' hot when I'm naked.
Being naked is a weird thing. As an American female, we are literally thrust out of the womb with the idea that we cannot show our naked bodies unless Hugh Hefner sends us a personal invitation. This is annoying to me for several reasons, but the main reason that sums it all up is this: I want to be able to walk around without my clothes on (obviously I'd use some discretion and not go to the supermarket naked or anything) without feeling bad about it and having to worry about what other people are saying.
Okay, before you start with the name calling - I am not a tree hugging nudist, nor do I ever plan to be. And in all honesty, if I felt comfortable being naked, I probably would still wear some clothes. I just want the choice, you feel me? People are always going to talk, though. Humans will be humans. Bodies will never be "perfect" and what even defines perfect anyway? I was thinking about all of this today while on the treadmill at the gym...running my ass off (literally) instead of sitting at home eating vegan cupcakes. Actually, for the first 10 minutes of running, I was cursing all of the skinny women who actually DO sit at home and eat cupcakes, never gaining a pound and hoping that someday - by the hands of fate - they will know what it feels like to have to worry about shit like this. Then I turned the page of O Magazine (hey - free reading material is free reading material and yes, I was jogging on the treadmill and reading a magazine at the same time) to find this: The You-Q Test.
I'm thinking, okay, I'll bite. I fold the corner of the page to bookmark it and continue on my journey to slimming down, toning up, and endless hours of walking around the house with no pants on.
So when I get home, I take out the magazine, my pen, and start the discovery of my "You-Q". Don't think for one second that I actually fall for this shit. Sometimes we do things simply because they are amusing to us, not because we really believe the outcome is going to be true or even valid. I mean, I see adults who STILL throw pennies into a fountain and make wishes and c'mon...we both know what a crock that is. How many of your "fountain wishes" have come true? Yeah...thats what I thought.
Back to the test. The first part is a series of questions related to the subject of "looking beautiful". So there are 9 little drawings of women in their underwear, starting from the skinniest (who looks like this girl I saw on "Intervenion" for severe anorexia) and goes all the way through the healthy girls, to the chubby ones, to the last - the massive blimpo fatty. Following the instructions, I circle the 7th drawing (on the fatty side of the spectrum) because I felt it "most closely corresponds to my body". Then, I circled the middle drawing to represent the body I want. I don't think thats too far out of reach.
The second part of the test was a series of 4 questions all regarding the face. I answered them truthfully - and put the highest possible number on every answer because I love my face. There is nothing about my face I would change. I like my skin, I like my hair, not interested in plastic surgery...I'm totally confident in the face department. Then, you are supposed to add up the numbers and your score from the body-circling bullshit and read your Beauty You-Q from the list of 3 explanations. Mine read:
"Frankfly, we're surprised you had time to fill out this survey between modeling gigs. All we can say is, stay out of the sun, wear your seatbelt, and keep your feet on the ground."
What...the...fuck...?
Are you kidding me? THAT is my result? What about the insecurities regarding cellulite, flabby arms, bulging gut from all the booze I've drank to not think about the insecurities regarding cellulite and flabby arms?!
I closed my magazine and threw it down. Oli (my boyfriend - who happens to be a freelance writer in his spare time) looks over and asks whats wrong. I explain my utter disgust, to which he replies, "You have to remember, those things are written by people like me, who get paid to sit at a desk and write bollocks all day."
What a fucking pile of shit. I scarfed down a vegan cupcake in 2 bites after that. I'll go back to the gym tomorrow, though, because worrying about my weight is just the wretched hand that life has dealt me. And hopefully, someday, my mind will rest at ease and I'll just learn to shut the hell up and stop sweating it so much. Literally.
Being naked is a weird thing. As an American female, we are literally thrust out of the womb with the idea that we cannot show our naked bodies unless Hugh Hefner sends us a personal invitation. This is annoying to me for several reasons, but the main reason that sums it all up is this: I want to be able to walk around without my clothes on (obviously I'd use some discretion and not go to the supermarket naked or anything) without feeling bad about it and having to worry about what other people are saying.
Okay, before you start with the name calling - I am not a tree hugging nudist, nor do I ever plan to be. And in all honesty, if I felt comfortable being naked, I probably would still wear some clothes. I just want the choice, you feel me? People are always going to talk, though. Humans will be humans. Bodies will never be "perfect" and what even defines perfect anyway? I was thinking about all of this today while on the treadmill at the gym...running my ass off (literally) instead of sitting at home eating vegan cupcakes. Actually, for the first 10 minutes of running, I was cursing all of the skinny women who actually DO sit at home and eat cupcakes, never gaining a pound and hoping that someday - by the hands of fate - they will know what it feels like to have to worry about shit like this. Then I turned the page of O Magazine (hey - free reading material is free reading material and yes, I was jogging on the treadmill and reading a magazine at the same time) to find this: The You-Q Test.
I'm thinking, okay, I'll bite. I fold the corner of the page to bookmark it and continue on my journey to slimming down, toning up, and endless hours of walking around the house with no pants on.
So when I get home, I take out the magazine, my pen, and start the discovery of my "You-Q". Don't think for one second that I actually fall for this shit. Sometimes we do things simply because they are amusing to us, not because we really believe the outcome is going to be true or even valid. I mean, I see adults who STILL throw pennies into a fountain and make wishes and c'mon...we both know what a crock that is. How many of your "fountain wishes" have come true? Yeah...thats what I thought.
Back to the test. The first part is a series of questions related to the subject of "looking beautiful". So there are 9 little drawings of women in their underwear, starting from the skinniest (who looks like this girl I saw on "Intervenion" for severe anorexia) and goes all the way through the healthy girls, to the chubby ones, to the last - the massive blimpo fatty. Following the instructions, I circle the 7th drawing (on the fatty side of the spectrum) because I felt it "most closely corresponds to my body". Then, I circled the middle drawing to represent the body I want. I don't think thats too far out of reach.
The second part of the test was a series of 4 questions all regarding the face. I answered them truthfully - and put the highest possible number on every answer because I love my face. There is nothing about my face I would change. I like my skin, I like my hair, not interested in plastic surgery...I'm totally confident in the face department. Then, you are supposed to add up the numbers and your score from the body-circling bullshit and read your Beauty You-Q from the list of 3 explanations. Mine read:
"Frankfly, we're surprised you had time to fill out this survey between modeling gigs. All we can say is, stay out of the sun, wear your seatbelt, and keep your feet on the ground."
What...the...fuck...?
Are you kidding me? THAT is my result? What about the insecurities regarding cellulite, flabby arms, bulging gut from all the booze I've drank to not think about the insecurities regarding cellulite and flabby arms?!
I closed my magazine and threw it down. Oli (my boyfriend - who happens to be a freelance writer in his spare time) looks over and asks whats wrong. I explain my utter disgust, to which he replies, "You have to remember, those things are written by people like me, who get paid to sit at a desk and write bollocks all day."
What a fucking pile of shit. I scarfed down a vegan cupcake in 2 bites after that. I'll go back to the gym tomorrow, though, because worrying about my weight is just the wretched hand that life has dealt me. And hopefully, someday, my mind will rest at ease and I'll just learn to shut the hell up and stop sweating it so much. Literally.
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