Comfortable With Conformity
I bought a beautiful khaki Ann Taylor suit at Sawgrass Mills today, size 8. I figure when-- when, not if-- I lose weight, I can always get it altered to fit. I went shopping with my mom, who forked over the $60 for the suit. Of course I owe it to her, but she's great to lay out the money, I have to admit that.
I'm all sweaty and smelly after working out, watching Big Brother 2, constantly being bombarded with lame-ass AOL commericals. AOL sponsors BB. I hate how AOL tries to convince people that AOL = The Internet. What bullshit. Anyway.
I know I harp on this subject, but it's on my mind. It's a weird feeling being fat again. Shopping loses some of its charm. It's like, clothes are not friend anymore. I can't gracefully thumb through the small sizes, I have to look at the larges. It's demoralizing. I look at girls wearing the tight flare size 3 jeans, wondering if they know how good they have it. I mean, I know a thin body isn't the key to happiness, I'm not that ignorant. But being thin means there's one thing you don't have to worry about.
I think I'm happy. I...don't know. I may have another interview on the horizon-- funny story. I hung up on a potential employer yesterday. This guy called, asked for me, I thought he was a collections agent, and I hung up on him. He called back, and I ignored it. He left a message asking me why I hung up since he's calling about a job. I was soooo embarrased. I quickly found his e-mail address and wrote him an apology letter. I'm so nerdy. I hang up on people a lot when I can't think of something to say, or I think they're a telemarketer. I'm really a wimp over the phone.
Older Current E-mail Host