This is all true and factual science. *nod*

Text to friends, based entirely in fact and science:

“They put me on the pill and said I could start it whenever, so I did, but I think my body was already preparing its regular PMS festivities, and when I added bonus hormones I fucked up its groove, because now I hate goddamn everything except you guys and Egg McMuffins.”

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A fine day for texting at Smug HQ

The Cute Dog Guy from OkCupid DID in fact send me a series of adorable dog (not dong) pics, AND a video of a dog frolicking on the banks of a lake.

So of course I reported back to my Friends Focus Group…

I’m good enough, I’m smart enough, and doggonnit…

Texting a friend about therapy:

Me: “We ended up talking about why I don’t consider myself ‘beautiful.’ She showed me a fucking Dove commercial. I’m never going back. (Kidding.)”

Friend: “No one should be forced to watch a Dove commercial.”

And by the way? I don’t consider myself beautiful, and I don’t see a problem with that, so fuck right off, Dove. But I am a middle-age American woman who mostly thinks I’m cute, sometimes pretty, so I do think I’m a goddamn miracle.

Besides, “beautiful” doesn’t even crack the top 100 on my list of issues. When I think about my last pseudo-breakup, my appearance isn’t what keeps my brain spiraling. He once got hard while we were taking a walk because I made a JOKE about wearing high heels during sex — it’s easy enough to believe he found me attractive. So can we focus on this weird haze I get into where I think I’m not smart or interesting enough to keep a dude around AFTER we have sex, even as a friend? That seems to be the dominating self-esteem weirdness here.

Ahoy, Captain Tightpants…

I had lunch with a male friend today and he asked if it’s ALL weirdos on online dating.

Hm. Not…REALLY

But I did just laugh out loud in a GOOD way at a first message from a seemingly normal, attractive man, and for a split second I forgot how a human woman is supposed to behave in this situation. 

I’m probably 95% in this whole thing for the stories. But sure, dude, let’s talk. You named your dog Malcolm Reynolds — at the very least I need to be your friend immediately.

We’re this close to synchronized Swatches.´╗┐

Texting with friends…

Friend 1: “You know it was a productive therapy session when you immediately get cheese fries afterwards.”

Friend 2
: “Nice. I’m going tonight as well.”

Me
: “Ha, I’m going tomorrow.”

Friend 1
: “Awwwww…we’re on the same therapy cycle.”

Friend 2
: “That feels more important than syncing our periods.”

Hash-taggin’ dat ASS

Text from a friend who’s getting married: “I’m going to try going to the gym and eating better for 100 days. #shreddingforthewedding #yep #imthatgirlnow”

Me: “Nice! OMG… If I also start working out so I don’t die of exhaustion when I finally get laid, can we make #toningfortheboning happen?”

The Slutty Skinny Heritage Workout 

Texting a friend about exercise classes:

“I’ll tag along for the trampoline class, as long as you don’t mind me thinking it’s hilarious to keep telling people I put the ‘tramp’ in ‘trampoline.'”

“OMG, and ‘tramp-o-lean’ when I get skinny!”

“Aaaahhhh, ‘Tramp O’Line’ for my Irish side!”

“Sorry, I’m done now.”