Sheesh, my hormones or something have been going a little crazy lately. A few minutes ago I found out my sister’s friends are coming over and I nearly cried (no, really) at the thought that I had to put on an uncomfortable bra and jeans again. But, now I’m fine. *sigh* Actually, writing about it makes me feel a little angry again *glares at bra*

Enough about cheap undergarments, though. I owe God a sincere apology, because the bookstore is now has restocked its supply of Dove Smooth Milk Chocolates! I know how excited you all are by that particular saga. I wandered in yesterday and there they were, piled all lazy and decadently on one another. Dirty, almost. So I got one, paid for it, and delicately ate it. Slowly. It was delicious.

And then I couldn’t get it out of my head that I should get another…to have while watching Project Runway, you know, because pretty clothes ain’t nothing without good snackage. So I kind of slink back into the store. And when the cashier calls me up I kind of awkwardly shove two more Milk Dove bars her way, and there’s this little pause where she kind of looks at me incredulously and I just smile, possibly a little crazily. But she rings it up and just says, “Should I expect you back in an hour?”
And I was all, “No no, this is for the week.” Which means it actually is, because I don’t want to go crawling back when I said I wouldn’t, and that leaves one dove bar a day, which is indulgent enough, isn’t it?

Speaking of food, I’m decidedly watching what I eat for now. Not altering or anything yet; just, taking note. Ok, there’s a somewhat conscious effort to be healthy, or at least stay on “okay”. I let how much money I feel I have available control my diet too much, probably. On the other hand, it’s true I have no money. And, no income. Still, the other day (about a week and a half ago) I had the worst stomach cramping ever. Gas, I guess? Air in my intestines? I don’t know, but it was painful as all fuck. The kind of pain where you lie in bed moaning and thinking “Jesus, I’m never having kids, ever” because I’m so not good at the abdominal kind of pain. Or, anything in that general area. Anyway, I had to take Alka-Seltzer and I threw up for the first time since I was seven. How miserable. But I quickly realized it probably had something to do the food intake for that day being thirteen Hershey’s Kisses and some soup-water (that puke was not pretty, people). And since then I’ve been kind of making sure to have real, solid, food every day even though I’m being freer with my wallet than ever before, and I’m not sure if I’m being healthy or just indulgent. Like, “I could go for a subways sweet onion chicken teriyaki right now. Ok then, I will.” I’m scared of checking my bank account.

OH, I also wanted to start an exercise regime. I’ve “meant to” for years, but a secret fear of mine is that I’ll lose weight in places where I really don’t want to/can’t afford to. You know? You know. Which is why I’ll concentrate on the limbs most on display – my spindly, flail-y arms. I plan on sitting around and lifting these cute little blue rubber weight-thingies (well, cute after I scrubbed them down), probably while watching TV. I’ve done it like three times so far and sadly, I’m not seeing any difference in my arms at all. How long does this take, again? Anyway, if that works out at all, I’ll concentrate on the legs, which are currently on the chicken side. The rest can just fuck off. What do you need muscles for, stomach? That’s right, you don’t. You just hang there and ingest, ok? (plus, since I’m apparently totally anti-feminist deep inside, I think girls look better with nice, soft bellies, you know?)

Damn, I was going to write a bitty bit about the PR finale, but this post kinda got away from me. What with all the bitching I had to do. And the insincere planning.

And I still haven’t put on that bra. This shirt is pretty thick, right? Right…