i think i’m getting fat. or at least, a significant addition to my tummy and not in the baby sense. and it’s ridiculous because i know all sorts of girls who continually call themselves fat who aren’t and girls who call themselves pigs who aren’t. but bear with me, i’m stepping off the soapbox.
yes. i think, due to working in a cubicle all day and such things, i am probably more sedentary. and sadly, my tummy is slowly but surely inflating itself. now, i’ll have you know my tummy has never been 8 minute abs dvd-cover model flat. i just wasn’t built with the right genetic code. there’s always been some curvature. in the sad and helpless third-world orphan distended belly way. and you know what? whatever. i’m not going to cry about it.
but i’m not appreciative of my stomach’s seemingly RANDOM decision to put more weight on itself. literally. the rest of my body is shocked. what’s going on? my arms queried this morning. beats me replied my cheekbones. dude, if tumtum is trying to compete with me for shapeliness, she is outta her league retorted gluteus max. in any case, my body is holding a joint meeting later to figure out what this is all about.
i’ve been eating more or less the same diet as always. it’s healthy. not american heart association healthy. but no food group goes overlooked or overcompensated. i exercise on the reg. i’ve decided perhaps my tummy is preparing for the impending apocalypse that i read about in the news everyday. storing up nutrients and whatnot. who am i to pretend like my brain hasn’t been shooting ominous signals every which way that somebody better do something? perhaps eventually the ole belly will just pick up wheels and move into a cave. one can only guess. for now, she busily continues stocking up, occasionally glancing at the covers of cosmo, vogue,
glamour, seventeen, marie claire, and maxim, and snorting derisively.
the little bitch.