- side note, i'm not really sure how i'm supposed to be trying to take care of my bodily shape when the fact of the matter is, i'm not going to grow five inches. i've been five foot tall since the eighth grade which has landed me here. here, where my five foot tall self still uses a little tikes step stool to reach everything in my cabinets. so, i'd like to point out that since i'm not getting taller, the fact that i have to shop in the petite section shouldn't really be such a shock. and to further aggravate the fact that i'm five foot tall and already slightly round in proportion, the petite section always has those lovely old woman pants with the elastic waistband - so truthfully, how does anyone expect me to keep any sense of shape when the only pants i can buy already come with a built in expandable waistline for those unexpected binges on prunes?
anyway - like any good woman with the moral fiber to pretend that she will meet someone and won't always be a sad pathetic square cat lady, i pretend to work out. i mean we all know that i eat five cookies after each episode of aerobics i watch, but i think the brain watching these things tends to cause muscle contractions and therefore is really exercise. i anticipate that this watching will cause some sort of physical reaction. like when you watch a cooking show and get really effin hungry. well, i'm hoping if i watch enough abs of steel, i too will find that i wake one morning with abs that glisten in the sun. or, at least that's what i pretend.
so exercise, not so much. but. i do walk around in my new heels because i think it does work out my calf muscles, and because they are these really awesome peep toed heels with giraffe print and red platforms and its effin cold outside so i have to wait five months to wear them, which is completely unacceptable when i got them at such a discount after eying them all summer...but i digress....
so i'm on vacation and i'm sitting on my couch, which happens to be 20 feet from my front door, which has those stupid side window things that it is impossible to buy curtains for. and while they may be useful, seeing as how leaving the little tikes in front of the door to see out the peephole is probably some kind of a fire hazard, they aren't exactly helpful when mr. finance comes buy to sell me a new ira. i'm sitting, giant tshirt, no bra, boy shorts and one hell of a good morning hair look on my couch. When, happy knocker, you know, those knock, knockknock, knockkncockknock, knock people, comes tra-la-la-ling all over my morning rerun watching.
and seeing as how the boy shorts and no bra look is even less flattering than the morning hair, i did what any normal human being would do and slunk off the couch and belly crawled in front of the stairwell where i couldn't be seen. And when realizing that happy knocker conner wasn't going away, i put on my sweatshirt laying there and wrapped the cow print afghan around my waist. because, yes, this is my life, and effin eh, happy boy had seen me and wasn't leavin.
so, conner - i'm at the door, peeking around, holding on a blanket and he's politely trying to sell me some new financial products. and no, conner, you're not getting my phone number, because if you think i'm going to let someone peek at my financial history and plan my financial future after you've already gotten the show - honey, i can't ever look you in the eye again.
and if that were the end, we'd be ok. but me and giraffe print shoes, after putting flannel pajama pants on, went through the day only to forget that painter guy was coming over. and hello painter guy, come on in. yes that was my cat darting past your legs, and yes, i will be retrieving her in my pajama paints and red platform giraffe print heels. thank you - and i am a cat lady in training.
and so - after a full day of eventful hiding during my "vacation" day...i want to know, does belly crawling and heel wearing cat chasing count as exercise? cuz i think it has to count for at least a big mac, right? i mean, right?
