Now, about those jeans...

You know those jeans I was talking about about 2 posts down? The ones that were too tight and I thought were going to fit in a couple of weeks? Well, I slid those babies over my ass today, buttoned them up, and sashayed out of the house feeling like a million bucks. They fit.

We're experiencing an Indian Summer here - side note: is that still "allowed" by the PC police? Indian summer? Should it be "Native American" summer? Indigenous people summer? Warm spell? whatever - and it's brought out the worst of people's fashion sense. Do people completely take leave of their senses when the mercury creeps up a few degrees? Judging by what I saw at the mall today, I really think they do.

Exhibit A: Cro-magnon man in a wifebeater, low-slung jeans, Timberland construction-worker boots, and a big-ass belt buckle trying to rein in his beer gut. Tats proudly displayed, the guy looked like a giant redneck canvas for cheap ink. My advice? Lose the belt and throw on a sweatshirt. Oh, and eyebrows? There should be two.

Exhibit B: Mutton dressed as lamb in tight ultra-low-rise jeans with tons of whiskering - honestly, this is as bad as acid-wash from the 80s - and a tank top that showed her belly in all of its stretch-marked glory. At the risk of gilding the lily, Madame Mouton was flaunting a sparkly belly-button ring, spackled-on makeup, and really big 1980s-New-Jersey-mall-queen hair in a shade of red that Mother Nature never intended. My advice? Stop shopping at Delia*s and Rave and look into Talbots and Macy's, because babe? You're pretty damn scary.

Exhibit C: The Teen Queen wannabe sporting a few pounds of eyeliner and mascara, clomping around in high heels, skinny jeans, and a sassy little T-shirt proclaiming that she "didn't ask to be a Princess" that stretches tight around the teensy little mosquito bites that she tries to contain in a AAA-cup size bra. "Britney Christina" rounds out our list of senseless acts of fashion violence. This exhibit usually travels in packs, with each pack having a dominant princess and a throng of ladies-in-waiting. My advice? Some eye-makeup remover, a bunch of hoodies, and a video on the dangers of teen promiscuity. God knows they won't watch it to learn anything, but it would be at least one hour that they wouldn't be trolling the mall looking for guys.

People, it's fall. Do my retinas the world a favor and cover it the fuck up.

Well, tell me something I didn't know...

You Are a Frappacino

At your best, you are: fun loving, sweet, and modern At your worst, you are: childish and over indulgent You drink coffee when: you're craving something sweet Your caffeine addiction level: low

What Kind of Coffee Are You?

thanks to Hube

Unless you're a man, one inch isn't that big of a freaking deal

Since I've lost close to 80 pounds now, I've run out of clothes in my closet that fit. The last time I was this size, it was summertime, and it's a trifle too nippy to scamper about in shorts and cotton tops. So, I've been out clothes-shopping, trying to fill in the gaps in my wardrobe.

I scored a nice pair of jeans from TJ Maxx - a little too tight as yet, but they'll fit in a few weeks, I hope. On the whole, I prefer places like TJ Maxx and Marshall's - discount outlets that you have to treasure-hunt through in order to find the few bits of gold secreted among the dross. It's the department stores that I hate.

Do you know what pisses me off beyond measure about the department stores? I can find a dress in a size 18 in the "misses" (read: normal-sized) section that fits, and it will cost about $50. That same dress in a 1x (which is roughly equivalent) in the "Womens" section for double the price. Can one fucking inch of fabric double the price of a garment? Did it take double the engineering to stretch the goddamn pattern out an inch to make the dress a size larger? Did they have to use titanium to stitch the seams so the obese cow wearing it wouldn't burst out? [/sarcasm] Fucking arsehole clothing manufacturers.

Look, is it not enough humiliation that I suffer just going through life being fat, that I should also have to pay through the nose for the same fucking dress as a woman ONE SIZE SMALLER? Cunts. Is it any wonder fat people dress a bit less nattily than their thin counterparts? It costs an arm and a leg (a fat one, at that) to put together a nice outfit at Lane Bryant, whereas I can pick up some really cute clothes at Sears in "normal" sizes now for the same price that the top alone cost at Lane Bryant. One of my students observed how stylish and better-dressed I am this year compared to last. Not only have my options increased, but so has the size of my clothing budget now that I am no longer being wallet-raped at the till.

The whole thing smacks of the whole fat as a moral issue - that somehow, people are only fat because they're self-indulgent sloths who stuff their faces 24/7, and so deserve to be overcharged. After all, if they'd just push away from the table or put down the fork, they wouldn't be fat and undeserving anymore. It's not so damn simple, as the stitches in my gut and 15 years of dieting can attest to. It's not fair though. It's so not fair.

But, hey, my new jeans are, like, totally cute.

Money Changes Everything

With apologies to Cyndi Lauper, damn! Money has been doing strange things around me recently.

First, I got a huge check in the mail from my insurance company to pay my surgeon. It's not often that I have a check for fifteen thousand dollars in my hand. I was tempted to run off to Tahiti and try to live on it, but decided to do the right thing and pay the man.

Then today, well, today was a doozy. The WCM (World's Cheapest Man) went out and dropped five bills on a GPS unit today.

Yeah, five hundred dollars. This is unprecedented in our 18-year relationship. Of course, being the WCM, he did tell me about it before he bought it, but he still bought it. I guess he's going to join the geocaching set now - you know, those idiots who go treasure-hunting with their GPS units for a buried tupperware container containing goodies? Oy vey.

Next thing, I get to my mother's house, and she hands me a check for, well, a lot of money. No specifics here, but it could buy six GPS units. It was part of my mother's inheritance from my grandmother. Now, I know that it's less than my cousins got (because I know exactly how much my mother and aunt got, and that my aunt split her money equally between her 3 kids - my aunt told me everything), but with my mother, I count myself lucky to have gotten anything at all.

See, that's the trick to dealing with my mother - you expect nothing, and then when you get something, you're delightedly surprised. And, boy, was I delightedly surprised today. So, now I have the headache of how to use this money. Tahiti is looking better and better.

No more L'il Girl & Lefty!

Your Boobies' Names Are...

Betty and Veronica

Boobie Name Generator

Vulgarity ahead

I got to see one of my friends today that I haven't seen in ages - she's like a little sister. We got to talking about my recent weight loss and I told her about my surgery. I had to tell her, though, the most, er, interesting revelations I've had about my body.

See, Aunt Flo visited me right after surgery. A month later, when she made her next visit, I was 35 pounds smaller. As I put the pad in my underpants and pulled them up, I noticed that there seemed to be a lot more pad than usual. Then I made the connection.

Damn! My twat shrank!