Comfortable With Conformity

January 30, 2001

I know I'm about to sound like a gloating moron right now, but I think I deserve to gloat a little. I just came back from Ross, looking for pants that fit, as usual. For once, I was on "the other side"-- irritated at all the big sizes crowding the racks, while the smaller sizes were few and far between. I don't know if this is because the stores order more large sizes, or the small sizes go quickly, but I've found it true in every department store. Maybe 20/20 should investigate the U.S.'s conspiracy to keep American women fat by only providing large sizes. I know, I'm a dork.

My sister had her boyfriend over last night, after she promised me he would leave at 11:30 pm. He didn't. They layed on her bed, whispering and cuddling and being generally obnoxious. He berated me for eating pasta so late at night. I just looked at him, wordless, shoveling spaghetti into my mouth. He's such a shmuck. I have the feeling he thinks I'm stupid-- it's just this air he gives off when he talks to me, not really listening to what I'm saying, constantly second-guessing me and interupting.

Tonight's dinner with Samantha, Nick, Mark, S and his Argentine cousin, V. Oh-- I was wrong when I said she was ninety-five pounds. She's one hundred eight pounds, and she's five foot nine. South American girls are really nuts about being thin. Anyway, we're going to some Argentine steak place, since I guess V can't get steak back in Argentina? ;)

Older    Current    E-mail    Host