I dunno what the deal is with kids today. I sound like a gramma but it’s true. They flounce around in skimpy outfits (with their guts hanging out because they play Wii instead of playing outside – not that there’s a thing wrong with playing Wii!)
On a PostSecret TMI Thursday, I mentioned wanting to kidnap obese children. It’s true. But even more so than being sad, it’s these friggin teens who drive me insane with their muffin top hanging over their hipsters and wearing teeny tiny tank tops. You are not Miley Cyrus. More specifically, you are not Miley Cyrus’ size. And her clothes are made for people her size. And she’s roughly the size of my thigh.
Well I’m not completely judging. I won’t act like I didn’t dress like that. Especially in college – the Austin summers at a toasty one-oh-four on average. Soffe shorts, tank top, hair still wet from the shower and in a ponytail. It was really the only way to stay alive walking the mile or two to wherever summer classes were being held.
But the difference is, I was really skinny. Seriously. Pole. I didn’t wear a bra till my senior year of college, except for sports bras during dance practice. That had to change once I put on around 20 lbs following graduation, much to the hubs’ disappointment. But yknow why I don’t still dress like that? Because it’s gross. Nobody wants to see my pasty pale cellulite hangin’ out the Soffe shorts. And if they do, they’re seriously disturbed.
Do these kids not have mirrors? I mean, I look in the mirror and go hmmmm SHOULD NOT WEAR. Can they pull their shorts down a little? tops down a little? Wear a larger size? I’d much rather buy a size larger than look like creme filling bursting out of a size 2 twinkie. Metaphorically speaking of course. Though if I DID have an outfit made of twinkies, it would be nothin but pure delicious unkosher goodness.
So anyways, I hope my kids are cute. You can guaran-damn-tee they won’t be sitting on their asses watching TV, playing video games, etc. Sports, dance, get up and move, jeez.
Somebody mentioned that I talk about fat and skinny a lot. Well, I think it’s just the way I was raised. This is fat and this is skinny. If you don’t want to be fat, you have to eat right and exercise. I really don’t think that there’s nearly as much pressure from society to be rail-thin these days. I don’t know anyone who’s dying (literally) to look like Kate Moss. I’d rather look like ScarJo – curvy and h-h-h-hot. Moreso I feel that people are shoving down my throat, “accept your body the way it is!” Well, no. I don’t like it the way it is. I got on the scale today and was happy for the first time in awhile. I was all, “hellooooo, 120s, good to see you again, my fat ass has missed you!” because that’s the weight I’m comfortable at. What about yall? You wanna look like a supermodel? Bleh. They’re all bones – I could break em in half with my pinky.
And while we’re on the subject, can we talk about what Hubs and I like to call “front ass”? WHAT IS IT? How does it get there? I’m so perplexed.
That’s all I guess.
