Eleanor Roosevelt can fucking kiss my ass!

You know how Eleanor Roosevelt said that "no one can make you feel inferior without your consent?" Well, I've had me an Eleanor kind of day so far.

First thing this morning, right? I was getting dressed and the WCM pops out with "gained a little weight back, chubby?" I'm all "What the fuck? Did I?" so I ran off to the scale and hopped on. No, goddammit, I hadn't. As it happens, I'm on the low end of my normal range. So I spent a couple of naked minutes in front of the mirror checking for stray lumps and bulges. Nothing out of the ordinary presented itself, but let me tell you: the tone for the day was set.

So next, I head downstairs and scavenge some ice for a protein shake, since my fridge has been out of commission and I have no eggs. Plus, I'd started feeling fat. Yeah, rationally, I'm not - lumpy, yes; fat, no - the WCM's needling had actually affected me more than I wanted to let on. While I'm at the computer drinking a shake that tastes like Strawberry Monkey Butt (don't ask me - you don't want to know) my fridge arrives. I IM a friend and we start "talking" about this and that. I wanted to get his opinion on my relative fatness, as he'd seen me recently, when he started raving about a current popular actress. Well, shit.

Now, normally, that wouldn't have bothered me at all, seeing as I look nothing like said actress and actually like her a lot myself. However, my self-confidence had taken a bit of a beating already, and now I was hearing all about another woman's hotness. "OK. FINE. I GET IT. SO NOT HOT." is playing in my brain and I just had to go. I couldn't even sign off with my customary cute bye-bye.

Feeling more than a bit peevish and out-of-sorts from having my two favorite men indirectly (and unintentionally, I'm sure, on my friend's part) slap me down, I spent part of the afternoon looking for a plastic surgeon who can remove this extra skin I've got and possibly make my breasts look normal. A word of advice? If you're ever trying to feel better about yourself, DO NOT DO THIS.

Now, my brother-in-law has invited us for dinner and a swim in his pool. I hauled out my bathing suits from last year - the first time I'd comfortably worn a bathing suit in years, mind you - and find that they're all just a bit baggy now. After I slid into my favorite one, I took a good long look in the mirror. My ass is gone, my tits are saggy, my stomach looks like a can of freshly-opened Pillsbury biscuit dough* and I wonder why nobody finds me sexy?!

So now I'm going to haul my sorry wrinkly ass over to the pool and try to hold my shit together. Hopefully I can blame my bloodshot eyes on the chlorine.