How do you get past that starving feeling? I find it so hard! Thanks!
Wait, what? Why with…
Asparagus and broccoli and cheese and apples and oranges and carrots and pitas and soup and bread and salads and rice and chicken and tuna and beans and avocados and tomatoes and spinach and potatoes and eggs and yogurt and FOOD.
Please note, I NEVER “starved” myself. EVER.
I really hope this blog, my blog, has never given anyone that impression (although obviously it has, as I get this question about once a week).
I lost my 50 pounds 100% the healthy way – with REAL food and by exercising. Sadly there’s no trick to the battle of the bulge… to lose weight it takes HARD work and dedication, NOT starving.
23k (14.37 miles (yes, the .37 is important too)) DONE!
I was a lazy ass this morning and slept through my alarm, but somehow managed to knock out a 23k ALONE.
As in, with no people around me. As in, in the suburbs (aka boring-ville). As in, with no music. As in, with just me, myself and I.
Some people say running is “therapeutic” to them, WHO ARE YOU? AND HOW CAN I BE YOU? For reals, it was way too much alone-thinking for my liking, I can only put up with my thoughts for about 2 hours alone, until I NEED human interaction, so this was seriously pushing it…
Anywho, my shoes are drying out, and I am now off to rub-a-dub-dub-in-dee-tub, then carbs, shopping, and Starbizzle with one of my favourites.
I opened my phone bill, and got hit HARD, $917 hard. As in shit. As in I heard Canada was the most expensive country in the world to own a cell phone, but what the hell, you guys. Apparently this is what happens when you decide to switch from a blackberry to iPhone, and go to the states and your phone ”roams.”
Hopefully one day, when I’m rich and awesome, I’ll look back and be all like, “Oh, that silly bill? Lol. I thought that bill was the end of the world at the time,” because right now, it seriously is.
Let’s face it, being over weight sucks. It does, it really, really does. If you don’t think this, I will challenge you to pull a Tyra Banks and wear a fat suit for a day, and I promise you, you will easily be converted to the tune of, being over weight? Yea, it sucks.
No matter how many cushions you place on your lap, how perfectly you apply your makeup, how black your clothes are, how well you curl your hair, how slim fitting a dress is, how sharp a suit is, people can tell you’re fat.
It’s one of the few vices that is public for the world to see; without taking a single breath, a stranger will know your weakness -> food (embarrassing, no?).
Being over weight in today’s perfectly airbrushed, gym obsessed, salad ordering world, especially if you’re of the female variety, isn’t that much fun and takes a lot of work.
A lot of hard work.
There’s the obvious physical effort of being fat, things are just harder. Everything is harder. Getting out of bed each morning is harder. Stairs become evil obstacles throughout your day. Walking between two locations becomes a subway ride because you don’t want to get sweaty, I can only assume if you have kids the task of playing with them is quite daunting, and the list goes on my friends…. This really isn’t too shocking as being over weight is literally like carrying weights around with you all day, every day –annoying, inconvenient and a lot of work!
Then there’s the physiological stress of it all. Exhibit A? See archives of this blog. The amount of stress caused from being over weight is ridiculous. What do I look like? Do I look fat? Can people tell I’m fat? Are people judging me? Does this make me look skinny? Will that fit? Can I fit there? Am I going to die early? What are my insides like? Will anybody ever date me? Sooo many questions that plague our days. It’s stressful, and quite frankly a waste of time and energy.
Of course there is also the act of dieting. Fat people are always on a diet, or trying to diet. And dieting? Yea.. it’s hard work. It takes effort, it takes time, it takes persistence. You gotta read up on what to do, count things, write things down, measure things, remember what you ate, plan ahead, prep… oh God, just writing that out sounds like effort. You’re constantly fighting with yourself, can I eat that? No. But I want that, maybe? No. Just this one time? No. O.k., maybe.. wait, No. Constant mental battles full your days when you’re fighting the battle of the bulge with yourself. It’s time consuming, and can become an absolute obsession, again, it’s hard work.
And eventually being over weight takes it’s toll. The days, months, years pass and every morning you wake up, promise yourself it’ll be different today(!) and then, BAM! for whatever reason, it wasn’t…
My point to my ramble? It occurred to me last night that maybe, just maybe, being fat is actually HARDER than trying to lose weight. Huh, well I never…
Don’t get me wrong, losing weight takes **a lot** of effort too, but the actual act of losing weight only lasts for a set amount of time and the benefits are HUGE, whereas being fat? Being fat you’re in this continuous state of hard-work, but with no positive outcome.
I now know, that if you’re going to live each day fighting yourself, you may as well be trying to get get healthier, at least there is a a HUGE-WAHOO!-FABULOUS-HIGH-FIVE outcome at the end, as appossed to a constant BOO-THIS-IS-HARD-AND-I’M-NOT-EVEN-GETTING-HEALTHIER/SEXIER aspect.
Just my random two cents for this Friday morning, take this with a grain of salt (or Mrs. Dash if you’re watching your sodium).
Things to do, Places to be, Random things on my mind…
Rise n’ Shine and give God the glory, glory. [Done and Done. Except with more grunts than glory]
Operation-Hydrate-E has begun. Place your bets now kiddies, 1 litre of water consumed by 6:30pm? Can she do it…. [ps please ignore the spelling error in my tweet. iPhone’s fault. I SWEAR]
I ran to a bus yesterday. My pants fell down. I felt skinny. It was awesome.
I’m 99.9% sure someone in my running group reads this blog (Hi! Hi! Hi! Fellow runner. Aren’t I way cooler on this blog, than in person? Shhhh our secret, mmmkay?)
Spin Class tonight. (SAY WHA?!) My friend emailed me, he booked me a bike, “at the front of the class, right in front of the instructor,” Efffffff, that aint good. Tonight will be funny.
A friend is here from New Zealand, thus I’ll spend an hour, or two, over dinner tonight being all like, omigod, is that how I sound?
I’m slowly being converted to this whole, “it’s not about weight, it’s about measurements,” thing… as it’s *shocking* how the scale hasn’t budged (149 and I are still BFF though), yet FOR SURE my clothes are looser… Huh. Howaboutthat?
I realize this is Blogging Taboo, BUT, people who send me evil anon messages (you-know-who-you-are) intrigue me… like, to take the time to a) create a fake email address, b) write out your, ‘you suck,’ thoughts, takes time and effort.
So… I tried on a Size 10 Banana Republic Skirt yesterday - it was too small. And my Size 12 skirts? Too big. File under: my rump is an awkward size.
I got new bras! 36B y’all! The B stands for Ballin’. [Fun fact: Bras are like heels, they look so much cuter smaller.]
This weekend promises a whole lot of awesome (minus 23k and laundry). 30 hours until bliss and booze… but who’s counting?
Sometimes I look around my bedroom and just stare at all the useless stuff I once bought and WISH I could have the cash back for everything. So many stupid material items bought over the years… I’m looking at you fugly Guess purses and bar tops.
A girl in my running room recently got divorced and is having a re-bachelorette party. <— GENIOUS idea.
Despite running 4 times a week, I’m still amazed every time I see a runner outside running, and in my brain, I’m all like, ‘wow, that’s so impressive, good for them, look at that effort.’
So this was (yet another) random post.. sorry about that, actually wait, not sorry, because that’s just how I roll… speaking of ‘roll,’ and this is only for Canadian Peeps, Roll Up the Rim is here! *fist-pump! fist-pump!* I’m currently 0 for 3, but it’s o.k., it’s o.k., I’m positive my next roll will lead to my new car!
In 41 minutes I’m supposed to be starting a 10k run. Not a fiber of my being wants to go. I’m exhausted. I just want to sleep. I ran yesterday. I’m spinning tomorrow. Personal trainer Saturday. 23k Sunday. It’s cold out. I forgot my Garmin. No gloves. Slight IT pain yesterday. Stomach feeling off today. I don’t want to. I don’t need to. It won’t matter.
It will matter. I do need to. It doesn’t matter if I don’t want to go. My stomach is in my head. My IT pain wasn’t too bad. It’s not cold enough for gloves. My Garmin doesn’t mean anything. It’s -1 out. [not, that, cold] 23k Sunday. Personal Trainer Saturday. Spinning tomorrow. 6k yesterday. What’s your point? I can sleep tonight. The fatigue will disappear once I start to run. Brain over body. Not body over brain. In 36 minutes I’m going to be running a 10k.
Not really “dirty” per se, just really stupid, annoying habits, I would like to change…
H20: Day in the life of liquids in my belly? Grande Coffee with breaky, Diet Coke with Lunch, Diet Coke with Dinner. That’s it, that’s all the liquids that will grace my stomach in an average day. If I run? Not much more either, on my 19k (12 miler) last Sunday I had to force myself to drink 1/2 a 500ml of bottle of water. So yea… there’s that. I hardly drink anything, and what I do is loaded with caffeine and crap. I’d love to change this, but I swear getting through a 500ml bottle of water is a real struggle for me…
Nails: I bite mine. Enough said, ewww, I’m 26, what the bollocks am I doing? That’s actually the main reason I wear trashy bright colours… to stop myself from picking/biting at them.
Stretching So umm yea, I’ve never admitted this on Little Blog before, but I don’t stretch. Like, not even a little bit, not even at all (this includes before and after runs). I once heard you should always properly stretch, or never at all, because the people who sometimes stretch have the highest rate of injury. Thus? I choose the latter and don’t stretch… and yes, this means I ran 2 full marathons never, ever stretching. Now you know. STOP JUDGING.
Trashy TV Oh God, it’s awful. The Bachelor, Biggest Loser, ANTM, American Idol, Project Runway, you name it, I watch it, well record it, and then will do marathons of awesome, crappy reality shows. <- Secret Pleasure
Processed Cheese Ewww, I WISH I didn’t like it, but I do. I don’t buy the stuff, but if processed cheese is around? yum-yum-yum!
Cream in my coffee Every morning I add beautiful, delicious, soothing-to-my-soul 12% (yes, twelve percent) cream into my coffee, along with a little pack of aspartame sweetener. If anyone is going to die from aspartame poisoning, it’s me.
Pretty bad, eh? Do you have any ‘Dirty’ Little Secrets? Or is it just me?
Saw your tweet about looking skinny, but still being a size twelve. Do you know what I would give to be a size twelve? It's a little insulting when you put yourself down like that when many of us are bigger than your before picture. YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL. The number on the tag of your pants means absolutely nothing.
I’m actually going to answer a message. Huh, how about that?
O.k., yes. I 100% see where you’re coming from, and it’s something I’m usually very aware of when blogging/tweeting. I know (most likely) people of all sizes read my blog… therefore, no matter what I say about myself there is someone larger than me out there, and I *really* don’t want to offend anyone, but (oh… the dreaded but…)
But, two things I’d ask you to please note:
I’m always going to offend someone. I can’t win. This is something that has taken some getting used to, as there was a time I was nervous of offending my readers, and wrote too carefully for my own liking. I now make a point to write my thoughts out, as if no one is ever going to read my words, it allows me to be open, honest, and real… unfortunately the consequence may be someone else’s feelings getting hurt, and I truly am sorry for that, but this is my blog, this is what I think, and for me, personally, a size 12 is a larger size than I’d like myself to be…
My before/mid-way photo was picked up and reblogged on a lof of “Thinspot” blogs. I read all their reblogs about me, and how “inspiring” my photo was, yet their personal statistics stood on the sidebar, “Goal: 97 pounds,” and “Currently: 108,” BUT, throughout reading all their blogs, I was never like, “I’m so insulted, they must think I’m a cow for weighing 149,” instead I thought, “poor girl. That’s too bad she thinks like that.” Their words weren’t personal insults to me, just as my tweet and posts aren’t to you. I really hope people keep this in mind when they read my posts.
I really am sorry if I offended you, the ironic thing? Some of the best looking people I’ve seen were plus size.. so yea, my posts/tweets/whatever are always (and only) directed at me, and obvs I’m learning slowly to heart myself (and all that jazz)… this is just my personal journey of how I’m going from fat (<- actually “obese”) to fabulous, and comfortable in my own skin.
I hope this answered your question. Thanks for the message, and compliment, and reading :)
So, this is an honest post... [I'll regret in the morning]
So here’s something I believe, maybe I’m the only one, I don’t know, but I truly do believe this… there are millions of girls/ladies out there who occasionally throw up their meals.
Occasionally being the key word.
You either read the above sentence and secretly nodded your head, or have absolutely no idea what the hell I’m talking about, and thus I’ll congratulate you, and ask you to please bare with me for this one post.
I’m not talking about consistently doing this a lot, and thus they (myself included) wouldn’t classify themselves as having a problem per se… and they most definitely would not consider themselves in the ‘bulimic’ range, because, well, it only occurs occasionally. It only occurs when they eat, what they each individually consider, is a huge/calorie loaded meal, that would just mess up the last day’s/week’s hard work (or are drunk, it often happens after ‘drunk food’).
It’s a disgusting, gross, quick fix which millions of women (I truly believe this) are doing behind closed doors. I was one of them for a very long time, that’s how I know this. That’s why I truly believe this.
This post isn’t about helping people who do it, because that’s an impossible task for me to attempt, as they don’t do it often enough for themselves to consider it a problem, and this post isn’t about me telling them it’s gross, and horrible, because that too, they all already know, instead, it’s to tell you this…
Today, tonight, I ate horribly. After my previous post I ate even more random, items around the kitchen, and tonight, a mere hour ago, I wanted to take the quick-fix road so very, very much. I wanted to wake up and see the scale still down, erase my mistakes from today, take the easy way out, and not live with the consequences of my evening’s actions.
My God I wanted to.
I thought about it for a while. No one would know. Obviously I wouldn’t blog it. It just be between me, God and maybe my dentist.
So I walked upstairs. I stood in my washroom. And just like all previous times before, I tried to avoid looking at myself in the mirror. But for some reason tonight? tonight I did. I just stared at myself, straight into my eyes, and then something changed.
What? I don’t know. Maybe it was something along the lines of, “what the eff am I doing? I’m 26? This is disgusting," or, "I’m worth more than this, I’ve come such a long way, the right way" or, "tomorrow is a new day," I don’t know, but something changed.
I sit at my desk right now, about to go to bed, knowing the scale will be up tomorrow, and my stomach is full of absolute crap food as I type this, but for the first time I also believe that that’s o.k., I’ll wake up tomorrow, weigh myself (<- ritual), and then start fresh, start all over again…
Another sunrise, another new beginning. The world is really quite perfect when you think about that.
So tomorrow let’s do this (again)… the absolute right way.
It’s true, I’m totally milking that “midway/after” photo (it’s even my fb profile pic). Deal. I like it, so sue me. And yes, I’m comparing the WORST photo of me ever taken, from anywhere, ever, to the BEST photo of me ever taken, from anywhere, ever. I’m sneaky like that.
So about my goal weight? umm yes, my Little Blog is called “One Twenty Five,” and yup, that still *IS* the ultimate goal. I’m comfortable in my skin at 149 (somewhat), but a) I know how to dress for my bod-ay, and b) there is still no effing way I would wear a bikini (so. much. tummy. still. there.), so onwards and downwards I’ll trudge. Twenty four to go.
Little Blog is going to have a makeover y’all! I’ve SERIOUSLY debated going over to Wordpress (word on the street is that’s where the “real” bloggers blog) But I’m seriously too lazy to move everything and as I don’t consider myself a “real” blogger, it’ll just be a face-lift [for now].
Ontario (that’s like a State people, c’mon!) has a holidayon Monday. The government (bless their heart) created it two years ago, it’s called “Family Day,” and I plan on spending the day with ma’ horses (aka family).
The blue shoes in that photo I’m milking are Steve Madden for those who asked.
The dress is Diane Von Furstenberg (size 8 bitches!), BUT I’m going to write a post soon devoted to the dress, because, well, I’m seriously so in love with it, and there’s a story behind it.
I am counting down the days until May 2, 2011. Why? That’s one secret I’ll never tell. You’ll find out on May 3, 2011.
I went to BodyPump last night. The teacher and I bonded. This is good AND bad as now I feel I ‘have’ to go each week, but really, I should anyways, so it’s cool, it’s cool.
I REFUSE to buy new work clothes, thus I look ridiculous in my high wasted skirts, as they sit so low.
I am a reality tv whore (The Bachelor, Project Runway, Biggest Loser, American Idol = Glorious Hours Wasted this weekend)
Emails, emails, emails y’all are so awesome. And I am dedicating my weekend to EMAILS. Wahoo! I was also thinking of pulling a Ben move, and answering questions through a video (as it’s a lot easier, so if you have any…. from random to real, I’ll answer.)
19k run this Sunday. Not a fibre of my being is looking forward to this. DAMN YOU DAILY MILE FOR MAKING ME STRIVE TO SEE THE GREEN BAR GROW.
My boobs are shrinking. I’ve always thought this would be awesome, but it’s not. I *have* to buy new bras this weekend. Hello B-Cup, what’s shakin? [Answer: not my boobs, that’s what]
It seriously still boggles my mind that Blackberries even have a place in today’s smart phone market. The iPhone is that much superior.
I don’t know if it’s just me, or if Starbucks lids are the world’s worst lids ever, because EVER SINGLE DAY I manage to spill coffee on myself. #JustHappened
I was thinking of pulling another Ben (goddammit, it’s like I live in his shadow) and going on an “Internet Sabbatical,” but then I realized I’d fail at it, and nobody likes a failure, so screw that.
I’m trying not to swear on my blog anymore. Trying to class it up around here. It’s really (firetrucking!) hard.
O.k., I’m done now, I apologize if you read this (ever so random) post. Please still think I’m normal, and cool, and it’s FRIDAY y’all! Let’s hold hands and sing and dance around a mulberry bush.
I have a question for you. Is it a turn off to find out someone has lost a lot of weight (aka was once fat)? I ask because I was out last night with friends, and it came up I used to be really hefty…
I was so embarrassed. I didn’t want them to know, I felt they would somehow judge me for it. I know I don’t personally hold it against guys (in any way) if they were once 1,000 pounds, but I feel like guys judge girls for it, or at least find it an unattractive quality?
this is about a [silly] boy. but more importantly a [stupid] girl
January 2011 was a bad month for me. If you were reading along, you already knew this. There were several factors that seemed to drown me to a near point of depression (So. Unlike. Me). And although I’m not ready to disclose the main reasons for my crappy month, I’ll let you in one of them; there was a boy.
Simply put, there was a boy who I liked, who didn’t like me back.
Looking back on the month now, I’m amazed at how much I let his views dictate mine, how an unanswered text, unreturned call would send my stomach into somersaults, and force me to consciously remember to breath.
I liked him a lot, more than I’ve ever liked a boy before and? and it was terrible.
As it is, my history with guys is horrible. I have absolutely always liked a person more than they’ve liked me. Always. But I was never a “needy” girl, once I saw the signs he “just wasn’t into me,” I’d simply walk away, head held high, and utter to myself, “that’s o.k., it’s because I’m fat.”
“Because I’m fat,” that was my beautiful, soft, insulation from the world, my protection from getting hurt. Of course he doesn’t like me, I wouldn’t like me, I’m fat, it makes sense, it’s all good. This method of thinking allowed me to brush just about everything off. Any time I was in a situation to get hurt, I used my weight as my shield against rejection. It comforted me in bed at night, and solidified that natural human question of why.
But the [silly] boy I spoke about above? He was different. He was the first boy I had ever been with that I had concluded truly didn’t care about my weight.
But then, of course, he stopped liking me, leaving me in a spot I had never been before; rejection without an answer to that inevitable question of why. I didn’t handle it well, I’ll admit that. It was new territory for me, I got lost in my thoughts trying to figure out why, and ended up questioning the person I was. Something I’d never done before.
Looking back on it now, it wasn’t about the boy, it was completely about me, figuring things out, realizing I had lost weight, and had nothing to hide behind anymore. Realizing I had no more excuses. The boy and I are good (as in friends) now, which is why I can write this post (even though I’m not sure I’ll ‘publish’ this).
I learned a lot in January, and became stronger because of it. To let some [silly] boy’s views dictate how I thought about myself? Absolutely absurd.
Rejection will always hurt, it’s not a pleasant thing to go through for anyone, but next time I get rejected (and I’m sure there will be lots), when I don’t have that cushy, “because I’m fat,” excuse to fall back on, I’ll now know better, know to believe in myself, and know who I am,
Thank you so much for all the love in regards to my 50 lb weight loss. I am a lucky girl to have such fabulous people reading my story. As you know from Ben’s post, last weekend I hit 10,000 followers, which left me absolutely flawed. I am so humblrd (tehehe, that joke will never get old) from the support I’ve received from complete strangers. Thank you so, so much.
Welcome new followers (and hello old followers, I still really, really like you, like inappropriately a lot)! What to tell you? What to tell you? Hmm, well you should know I’m weigh (my God, I’m on FIRE today) cooler than Ben, but that’s neither here, nor there. I used to be anonymous, which means when you encounter MS Paint blobs on my face, that’s why. My blog is also still a “secret” blog from my IRL friends, weird, I know.
I’m pretty blunt, I say things others don’t, such as life is better less fat, losing weight is 95% food, 5% exercise, and to lose weight (especially for girls) you gotta just eat less (of course this is super crappy, and awful, and omigod I lurrrvvve carbs so, so much, but it’s true).
I’m incredibly lazy. I love sitting and sleeping, but have somehow run 2 marathons (as in full ones, as in whoa), and am currently training for a 3rd. I still hate the actual act of running, but hey, if you’re overweight, you gotta do things you don’t like. I’m a HUGE believer running is not just for skinny people, and ANYONE can do it.
Sometimes I get all emotional and “deep,” and write posts that make me sound crazy. But the truth is, being an overweight twenty something (I’m 26 ps) girl in today’s society sometimes sucks, so I write about that. But I’m learning, slowly, but surely to wink at myself in the mirror each night, and tell myself I’m awesome (that’s a lie, I don’t actually do that, but maybe I should…?).
I work in finance, I live in Toronto, I have big (big!) plans for myself. I also love horses and dogs and travel and carbs.
Welcome to my little corner of the Internet. Here some of my favourite posts off the top of my head:
I guess we’re all reading weight loss blogs looking for inspiration, looking for ways to motivate ourselves to “lose weight,” and sadly I don’t hold The Key (My God, I’d be a BILLIONAIRE if I did), but all I can say is a) you have to actually commit to yourself (none of this self-doubt stuff in the back of your mind), b) it’s going to be way harder, and take way longer than you thought and c) it’s absolutely worth it, you’ll be amazed at what you’re capable of.
I, myself, am stunned at my progress, especially as I once ordered a family size pizza, with wings, with one of those to-die-for McCain cakes, and sat in my bed and dined for 1 in the warmth of carbs, while being horizontal. So yea… trust me, anything is possible.
Welcome to my Little Blog, thank you ever so much for stopping by!
So yes, the above is a perfect example of why it’s still hard to lose weight while running: because your mind tricks you into believing you “deserve" things you don’t.
I do not “deserve” a cookie just because I ran 10 miles. I do not “deserve” a cookie just because I ran 10 miles. I do not “deserve” a cookie just because I ran 10 miles. I do not “deserve” a cookie just because I ran 10 miles.
If I keep saying it, maybe, just maybe, my mind will believe it! :)
*fast asleep within 3.2 seconds* alarm sounds again
UGH, why does God hate me? SNOOOOOOOZE
*fast asleep within 5.6 seconds* alarm sounds again
UGH, WHY?! oh crap, I need to get up, I have to meet my running group for 10 miles in an hour, but that’s, like, plenty of time. SNOOOOOOOZE
*fast asleep within 8.2 seconds* alarm sounds again
Open eyes. Groan. Think to self, “I don’t need to run this morning, I could just run the 16k later today. Actually, I’m pretty sure my knee was hurting anyways, and don’t even get me started on my ankle. Missing this one run won’t matter. Screw the run, I’m sleeping in, this is my only Sunday this week, it’s only fair. SNOOOOOOOZE
*shut eyes, but feel sooooo guilty I can’t actually sleep* alarm sounds again
Every Friday I seem to receive the, “15 Random Things About Yourself?” tag and then I’m always all like whoa, 15 random things? My God I’d be hard pressed to find 5. What doesn’t Little Blog know about me? I’ve blogged about everything from sex, drugs and rock and roll binge eating to what I eat for dinner to the crap my head thinks at 2am. But I’ll try…
I’ve never died my hair. I used to beg, plead and grovel to my mom to let me, but she never allowed me, insisting I would thank her later. Turns out she was right.
I drive bare foot. I feel one with the car when I do this.
I actually really, really don’t like eggs. Like, at all. They’re all types of eggy and ovary-esque, so yea… I completely force myself to eat them
I really (as in I’m definitely going to) want to run an ultra marathon (50 miles / 90k). I also really want to do an Ironman at some point in my life
I’m always late. For work, for meetings, for movies, for friends, for life I’m always late, late, late. I try not to be, but something always happens that makes me late. I swear it’s not my fault.
I’m not a movie person. I want to be, but I’m just not. My attention span simply isn’t there. I watched The Social Network last weekend and had to break it into two parts to get through it. When I saw Inception (the last movie I saw in theatres) I spent the majority of my time people watching. Ya… no. attention. span.
I people watch. A lot. Like seriously you guys, it’s a problem. You could pretty much stop me at any moment, of any day, and ask me about all the people in my peripheral vision, and I’d be able to tell you what they were doing, who they were talking to, or what they were eating… I’m super creepy like this.
Lately I feel like the days are passing really fast. I’ll see the date, and be all like, where the eff did the last week/month/year go? I’m convinced life is passing me by, and I’m just sitting here watching it slip through my fingers. This greatly scares me.
I am the worst person ever at checking voicemail. EVER (we’re talking months (and months)) I’m convinced people only leave terrible news via messages, thus I never check.
I have 5 piercings. No tattoos though. I’ll never get a tattoo. I like them, have nothing against them, just not on me
When I hear a song I like, I can listen to it over and over without tiring of it. I will usually sing along [if no one else is around.]
I can make a clover with my tongue. Hidden, talent, right, there. Whoa.
In elementary school, I pulled a girl’s earing straight out of her ear. (She threw grass in my face. I was unimpressed). She added me on facebook last year, with a note, “I still cant wear earrings because of you.”
If I could plan my perfect life out, from this moment on (with the exception of winning the lottery, marrying a prince etc.) I have absolutely no idea what I’d do, or where I’d take myself. Quarter. Life. Crisis. Is. Occurring. Omigod.
I imagine my funeral a lot. Death fascinates me. If I were to die tomorrow I think I’d be o.k. with the life I’ve lead. I’d be sad I never truly loved though.
In other news, TGIF, busy weekend ahead, lots of sleep to be caught up on, running to do, and horses to ride. Happy Friday Y’all! xo
File under super awesome things of my morning my life:
The Scene: The elevator. 4 Twenty-Something guys and me. Cue: Doors Open. I walk out onto my floor ~ As the doors close, I overhear ~ Guy 1: “Damn, she was hot” End Scene
You guys, I know, I know I’m not supposed say “life is better less fat,” but all signs are pointing to —> T.R.U.E. ____________________________________________________________________ [Ed note: I’m always super nervous to make posts like this because, well, I imagine this (itty bitty) type of thing happens to most girls, most of the time, and thus I feel lame, but stuff like this never happens to me, so yea… I’m posting it.]