I wasn’t ready!

Y’all.

I am JUST in my regular doctor’s office, trying to get my sinuses un-fucked.

I wasn’t ready.

Prioritize, people.

Eeewwww… Look, I can either focus on dinner OR vaguely threatening hairless douche-bros, but not both.

Feed me OR fuck me. My ADD can’t handle the multitask.

P.S. Fuck me first, so I don’t have to worry about birth control for food babies in addition to regular ones.

Scorn at Every Size

Me: “I need to lose some weight.”

 

Therapist: “But you get regular checkups and your health is fine? Heart, cholesterol, blood pressure?”

 

Me: “Yes, but I’m MUCH heavier than the recommended highest weight for my height. And I’m not looking at, like, Jamie Lee Jo Bob’s Anorexia Enthusiast Forum — these are weight charts from real medical organizations.”

 

Therapist: “Those charts are based on the same BMI criteria you just told me was ‘horseshit.’ Have you heard of the Health at Every Size movement? That you can weigh more than you ‘should’ but still be perfectly healthy?”

 

Me: “Of course. And I totally believe that.”

 

Therapist: “OK, so…you JUST said your health is fine.”

 

Me: “But it’s NOT. I have a gut like a 55-year-old man with a lifelong Budweiser habit.”

 

Therapist: “I agree you should exercise more often, but if you do, and you eat a balanced diet, what if this is genetically just the way your body is supposed to be?”

 

Me: “It’s not.”

 

Therapist: “So you’re saying you support the idea of ‘health at every size’ for everyone except yourself?”

 

Me: “…Yes, that’s correct.”

 

She doesn’t want me to do Whole30, because apparently you, like, need carbs to live or something? But I’m doing it, so… we’ve reached an impasse. And by “impasse,” I mean, “thing I’m not telling my therapist.”

🖕🏼

The dance instructor “YEAH”ed my ass maneuvering, so, fat be damned, I’ll take that as progress.

“My 600-lb. Lady Gut”

I felt OK about these workout pants when I bought them, but for some reason today I feel like I should wear them while on my own reality show called “My 600 Pound Lady Gut,” so… Yeah, good times! Let’s go to dance class and watch it all jiggle rhythmically!

P.S. I’m QUITE sure my salt & vinegar potato chip lunch and probable dehydration have nothing to do with this. Shut up.

Oh, hey! Something not awful!

Signing this for an office wedding shower. Nice work, Carlton Cards (and my rad, progressive workplace)! 💕🏳️‍🌈

Sometimes I’m funny.

BRB, hiding under the stairs where I belong.

Ever see a photo of yourself and start making a to-do list for a plastic surgeon?

Ahem.

Yeah, me, neither…

Snatch Snacks

I’ve always assumed Doritos were *already* for women — duh, they’re V-shaped. #LadyDoritos #SnatchSnacks

Therapeutic Cliffhanger

Today I had therapy, and we ended up with an exciting basis for NEXT week’s session, where we’re going to dive deeper into how 40+ years of coddling and condescension from everyone in my family could perhaps make me constantly doubt my capabilities as an adult, and affect my self-worth in all areas of life.

Awesome. Great. I’m SO glad I did this. 🙄

(I am, but…Christ. Originally I just went to therapy for some Breakup Krazy Glue, but ended up shattered six ways to Sunday. At least when my therapist starts writing groundbreaking articles about family insanity, maybe I’ll get royalties.)

(By the way, I am STILL very much on Team “Whatever Your Family Did, You’re an Adult, Handle Your Shit.*” But it turns out I just need some strategies to make that work as more than just bluster.)

(*Unless your family was LEGIT awful and not just underminey, in which case, obviously, you have the right.)

(Part of my damage is minimizing my damage because so many people have much worse damage.)