And I’ll admit it- I startedn to tear up as I watched him walk down the aisle this past Saturday. It was like a straight out of body experience. Thankfully, our mutual friend Christina (and a fellow single girl) was sitting beside me and she looked equally as freaked out so I know I wasn’t havig a purely selfish moment.
On the brightside, once I got past the whole ‘OMG, Dana Doggett is REALLY getting married before me’ thing, the reception was the straight open bar, good food, jump off. The party MC came with a dancing entourage and a ton of props- whistles, cowboy hots, maracas, tamborines, neon glow sticks, afro wigs, jester hats and lots of tomfoolery. I swear I danced until my feet hurt and then two steps more.
When it’s all said and done, I’m so happy for my boy (that’d the back of his big head on the cha cha line). Tawana (you guessed it, the one with the white dress) is a great person and god bless her heart for taking it on. Now if only they’ll agree toschedule a recommitment ceremony jump-off with that same party MC every year, it’ll be all to the good!
Praise the Lord, I have finally made friends with the girl who works at the Dunkin Doughnuts across the street from my house!!! WOO HOO!! When I say I feel like I won the fraking lotto, I kid you not.
This afternoon I taped an episode of a series entitled, Heavyweights for the Food Network. Which is cool but not half as cool as the conversation that I had with my girl/ favorite make-up artist in the world, Romy while she was figuring out what to do about my face. Romy asserted, “Ex-boyfriends make the best boyfriends.” And I first, I started to disagree but then I had to pause. She’s absolutely right. Who’s boyfriend hasn’t acted 110% better once you cut them off? It’s like add a break-up and they instanly become the man you’ve always wanted. What is that?
‘Cause in my opinion, I have some of best ex-boyfriends in the world. They’re all such a diverse, decent looking, intelligent, personable bunch and for the most part, extremely ‘gifted’ hint, hint.
They know exactly what to say or do to bring a smile to my face. Their timing is impeccable-never forget a birthday, holiday or even favorite color. They’re patient and always so understanding of my little moments/ mini-tempertantrums. And did I mention helpful? An entire relationship can go by and not one offer to pick up some groceries. Let a break-up occur… refrigerator stocked. All the little quirks and bad habits that used to drive me up a wall are so cute…. And then it hits me- all this is possible because they’re busy being somebody else’s problem. Sigh.
I love my ex-boyfriends. Don’t you love yours too?
As I prepare to drag my butt to the gym to continue to fight the never ending battle against my tummy and thighs, it occurs to me that today is Valentine’s Day. And aside from the well meaning texts and emails from supportive girlfriends and a possible call or two from the not so well intentioned ex-boyfriends, I’m not getting squat on this blessed Hallmark holiday. Sigh. But it’s actually okay because what I really, really, really want for V-Day, I’d probably never receive. What is it? Well since you asked, aside from two dozen roses, a funny card, diamond earrings, a BMW 6-series drop-top and a trip to Tahiti with my ten closest friends; All I really want is some Bliss FatGirlSlim cellulite cream.
Why of all unromantic things in the world would I want FatGirlSlim cellulite cream you ask?
Simple: Because there’s nothing I dislike more than diet soda/food/ shakes/ plans/anything and working out. And even if it’s not doing anything, slathering this bad boy on every day makes me feel good dammit. Which is more than I can say for excercise.
Paying my gym membership every months pains me like child support like I was Eddie kicking down Scary Spice. The sight of an elliptical machine makes my my head hurt like the photos of the pantyless tragedy that is now Britney Spears. Every sit-up makes me want to slap the taste out of some skinny chick passing me with me coordinated workout outfit. I despise pilates. And I have never, ever, ever acheived that mythical state of runners high that people insist exists. On the contrary, when I see people jogging in the park my first thought is – ‘Look at those fools running to their deaths.’ I know, I know, not nice. But if it makes you feel any better I’ve started to pray on it, literally.
Every morning, when I say my morning prayers I add a line or two about the need for self restraint around chocolate, and the desire for a miraculous warp speed increase in my metabolism. Shallow? Possibly. Honest? Definately.