Naked truth

Eating better and working out is going OK, but I realized I have a new fitness goal: to look as good naked as I do dressed. I look adorable today… or at least I will until I go home and take off my pretty wrapping. Then the illusion is shattered when everything on me goes “flump.”

I don’t even know if my body is capable of being toned — I’ve been thinner, but still looked like I was covered in vanilla pudding when naked. My shoulders and clavicle are bony as fuck, yet I have a gut like Nacho Libre — where does that get logical? This is how I know I was not intelligently designed — only a system that gave us the duck-billed platypus could also provide this particular assemblage. The good Lord woulda had His shit together.

Maybe there’s a spa treatment that can just slough off all my skin so I can start over.

(I’ll have none of your logic about patience and perseverance and inner beauty. FEH! I want to look like Ashley Graham tomorrow. Make it so.)

Johnnie Walker “Something Blue”

Wow. Way to target your email to my EXACT needs.

Fancy spa services for two?! Query, though: What kind of spa treatments can you give my life partner, Johnnie Walker? I mean, I’ll bring him, I just have questions.

And my “idyllic wedding venue?” So…there’s a courthouse inside your hotel? And Stephen Colbert is my officiant? And then there’s a dance floor my besties and I can tear up? And then pancakes after? Nice! Let’s do this!