Monday, March 19, 2012

"You cut me down to size and opened up my eyes...

...made me realize what I could not see." Swallowed In The Sea by Coldplay.

Assuming I feel up to it, I'm very excited for this week! The weather has been so lovely, my sweet husband promised to take me out to the lake to have a picnic. Yay!

In other news, I am grumpy. No one has actually had the audacity to say it to my face, but there's a conspiracy to guilt me into working out.

For those of you who have never even remotely met me, I loathe exercise. Like, worse than mean people, worse than ugly clothes, worse than poopy litterboxes, worse than cooking, worse than cherries and blueberries, worse than those crazy huge centipede bugs in Kentucky. And I hate exercise much more than I hate having love handles. I would literally squish three centipedes, clean a gross litterbox, cook a feast, and eat it while talking to mean people wearing ugly clothes at every single opportunity--with my love handles--rather than work out. And I'd eat blueberries and cherries. Even in a pie. So they're extra slimy.

Every other post on everything (Twitter, Facebook, Reader, Pinterest, Google+) is about how all these skinny, active girls are loving their latest workout and how nothing tastes as good as skinny feels and how Hunger Games has inspired them to work out and how epic they are becoming and how awesome sweat is and how gyms are the greatest invention since fat free ranch dressing.

Well, goody for you.

No seriously, good for you.

I'm glad you all love being super gorgeous and skinny and dedicating your life to that. That's...nice. There are worse things, for sure. Go for it. I'll show up at your next marathon and cheer you on in someone else's convertible, sipping my sweet iced tea and munching on cool ranch Doritos. (No seriously, totally done that. And because you are my friend, I would do it for you.)

My philosophy on exercise is basically that I'll go "work out" if it's a social activity (and yeah, I intend to look as cute at the end as possible, so clearly I'm not working out hard enough. You go for your reason, I'll go for mine.)

I hate sweat, and I hate having to schedule my day around the grossness that inevitably ensues from strenuous exercise. And I think quite a lot of things taste better than skinny feels. Skinny feels...hungry. Chocolate chip cookies taste delicious.

So yeah, go ahead and be epic. Don't mind me, I'm going to eat a cheeseburger and keep on growing this little human inside me. We're pretty happy over here, reading, watching movies, and going on nice, non-sweaty walks every so often, as weather (and morning sickness) permits.

It's not that I bitter. I'm not. I've been skinny...enough...and I would just as soon be happy.

Speaking of, my husband tells me my Mac n' Cheese is ready.



the pink pixie said...

My thoughts exactly. Love!

Marianne said...


Pinon Coffee said...

Psh. God doesn't demand skinniness. It's not a commandment or anything. Especially when you're expecting - that's just modern ridiculousness. No guilties!

(I wanna come picnic with you!)

Kyte said...

Haha, preach it sister! <3 Love you girls!