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Wednesday, April 12, 2006

Zombie Has Issues, Part 1

Really, it should come as no surprise that I have issues. I have, in the past, considered buying a nice suitcase to pack my various complexes and issues into, so that they might become more portable, and, therefore, (hopefully) less in my way. Did that make sense? No? Good.

Anyway, I have been trying for the past couple of days to write a witty, fantastic post about an issue of mine, specifically my weight issue, but it just won't come out properly. See, what I thought was only one issue* turned out to be a whole bunch of different issues that collectively form a MechaIssue the likes of which the world has never seen!

So, trying to write about this shite as if it were a singular problem didn't work, because every time I would try to wrap up a thought, something else would occur to me and I would try to add that in, and on and on until the post got so long and convoluted that it tried to strangle me in order to save itself any more pain.

Yeah.

So today, we'll just talk about one part of the MechaIssue.

I did not go to the gym yesterday on account of getting my Depo, since it has a habit of making me wonky and nauseous and also homicidal.**

I did go the day before, though - and I was feeling pretty good about myself. I'm making a concerted effort to correct my weight! I am eating well! I have stopped drinking real Coke entirely! I resisted a delicious hamburger*** that a coworker**** offered me! I did not eat cookies when I could've eaten thousands of them! I am excellent!

So, there I was, so very proud of myself, ambling along on the treadmill, and then -- shit. This 9-foot-tall praying mantis of a woman gets onto the treadmill next to mine and my fragile little bubble of happiness is blown to bits.

Now, this girl was way too skinny. She seriously resembled a praying mantis. I will never look like that in my life, even if I lost 100 pounds tomorrow - but more importantly, I do not want to look like that. The Praying Mantis Look is, like, kinda scary. Okay, more than kinda.

But still, I found myself jealous of this woman and her thinness. I kept sneaking glances at her via the GIANT MIRRORS OF DESPAIR that the gym has all over the place, which were obviously put there to torment me.*****

Why would I be jealous of a woman I have no wish to resemble? Does that make sense? No, it does not - but there it is. I compare myself to a woman that I have no wish to be like. See? Issues.

And then she opened her mouth to speak to what I presume was her boyfriend on the machine beside her, and I felt better, because she's apparently retarded. Okay, not retarded retarded, but at the very least...impaired?...challenged?...okay, stupid. And that's all right. Skinny bitches are okay if they're stupid. After all, they have to be skinny to make up for their lack of personality, right? RIGHT? Comfort me, here, people, I think I'm having a crisis...


* We'll name that particular issue "You Call That a Donut, I Call It My Own True Love," hereafter to be referred to as just Donut, for the sake of not making me keep typing that out.

** Don't worry, I feel better now! Well, except for the homicidal part. I'm always homicidal.

*** Mmm, hamburger.

**** Curse you, coworker.

***** I know they did that on purpose. They can't fool me. I am On Top of Things.


link | posted by Zombie at 11:29 AM |


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