Don’t take away my hobbies.

“Stop beating yourself up.”

“But beating myself up is my cardio.”

The City of Brotherly Leave Me the Fuck Alone

I wonder how many men have ever felt the need to re-route their walk home because, while it’s LIKELY the creepy subway dude who’d referred to them as both “honey” AND “baby” had the same simple, innocuous thought they did, and decided to walk the mile back to their mutual neighborhood rather than wait another half hour for the next bus, the fact remains he WAS walking a short distance behind them for a bit, and they can really never be SURE…

Also, what the hell? My therapist ASSURED me my emotional walls were so high that men couldn’t even see me. Aside from that one dude, I’d been walking no more than 5 minutes before two other men felt the need to say “hi” to me.

Um… Did I get hotter? Or, more likely, did my self-esteem dip a little lower today and y’all can just smell it? Jesus Christ, leave me alone.

Huh. Well, this escalated quickly…

If you’ve never had your brain telling you you’re an undateable garbage monster on the SAME day you realize the last person you dated is now in a seemingly happy relationship and that you haven’t had ONE date since you broke up three YEARS ago…I highly, HIGHLY recommend it.

Bright side: I honestly didn’t realize it was him. I think I forgot what he looked like?

So clearly a very serious “relationship.”

“Whatever, sea cow…”

Therapist: “So how’s it going with your body image as far as your vacation and trying on swimsuits?”

Me: “I mean, it is what it is. I can’t change much in 2 weeks, so…this is my body, I’m gonna go have fun.”

Therapist: “That sounds like a very healthy perspective. Good for you.”

Later, while trying on shorts…

Me: “Cool, so I’m basically a manatee.”

Aaand now I need more therapy. 🙄

My friends are mental Wonderbras.

This is the online photo of another swimsuit I bought, and I texted a friend a photo of how it looked on me…

Me: “I’m sending this back. I don’t even know why I bought it. I’m gonna be standup paddleboarding and shit — I need something sportier. But damn, I look CUTE.”

Friend: “You look great and you should keep it and wear that shit every time you go near water.”

Here’s to friends who are more supportive than bathing suits. 🍸

Professionally insecure

I had an insecure day at work, and I’m attempting to reason with the cunt-y part of my brain that’s telling me I’m complete shit at the ONE marketable skill I allegedly have.

But the thing is, the bitch in my brain doesn’t run on logic. So, “Hey, you still HAVE the job, and you just had a good annual review and got a raise!” And she’s like, “NOPE, doesn’t matter. You suck at everything and should just hole up in your hermit fortress and stare at the walls forever. Oh, and you’ll do that ALONE, as long as we’re planning.”

This part of my brain should be in Congress. Can’t tell that bitch SHIT.

But also, fuck you, Brain. I’m gonna give you sleep, then baked goods in the morning, and tomorrow will be better. You go ‘head and try talkin’ trash with a face fulla scone. Wench.

My 600-Pound Brain

The other day my friend made a side-by-side photo of her face on the day she started working out, and her face a few weeks after, and you can really see a difference — she’s lost weight and she’s glowier (totally a word).

I just did the same photo, and…welp, now I’m just gonna eat a whole pizza for breakfast because fuck this fruit bullshit, I look EXACTLY the same. My body is disloyal and this is just what I weigh. Maybe I’ll be a fat activist. Maybe I’ll just gain MORE weight and get my own reality show. I’m probably funnier than most of the people on My 600-Pound Life.

I quit. Send snacks.

Thank you for attending my tantrum.

“Any questions?” Oh, SO many questions!

My brain on online dating: “Have I told you lately that you’re an undateable garbage monster?”

Also my brain on online dating: “Mm hm, sure have — several times, actually. Also, shut the fuck up, I’m trying to get us laid here.”

Putting “dat ASS” in “glasses”

Y’all.

I have a new eye doctor and he’s HOT and I wasn’t prepared for that because eye doctors are always 112 years old, so I didn’t even shower today and I’m not wearing makeup and I’m still half sick and he’s married so it doesn’t even matter but also HOT.

Also, I mean, I’m sure it’s possible he tells EVERY woman she has “lovely” eyelashes and that she’s funny, but…I get the sense that perhaps not. So I’m just gonna tuck that little nugget in my back pocket for future ego boosts.

See also: HAWT.

Could you maybe just…not?

Guy I Dated for a Minute and I have mutual Facebook friends, but aren’t friends ourselves. I last saw him at a holiday party last year. We were friendly but didn’t talk much, and haven’t communicated since. Today he “liked” two of my comments — about a local bagel shop — on a friend’s post.

What in the schmeared fuck am I supposed to do with that? Stop being weird! I’m finally OK about you using me for sex and then ghosting on me because I am bad in bed or somehow otherwise boring or underwhelming… OH WAIT. See that? No, I’m not — I had just successfully buried it like a proper Irish girl should. Could you just stop being weird, then?

(Logically I know that’s not what he meant to do, and he’s probably at least half decent because my friends aren’t friends with assholes, and he just tweaked something in my pre-existing condition, and I’m glad I’m in therapy.)