Sunday, February 21, 2010
"Just Be Yourself
Kristin Booth does a great job at this. She is a great example.
(I really appreciate you for this Kristin.)"
Sigh. Totally unsolicited and completely awesome compliment by an anonymous young man?
Thank you, Universe. I needed that.
Why does it matter so much? Why is my self esteem inversely related to the fluctuation of my dress size? Why does it have that kind of power? Why do even the nicest of boys put things like "FP" on their list of things to avoid in future spouses. What is "FP" you ask? It stands for "Fat Potential." As in, the likelihood that a certain girl will let herself go and end up being a fat wife. Because heaven forbid she gain a single pound after bearing children and dealing with life and the stress of motherhood.
I learned about "FP" tonight while talking to a couple of guys who I thought the world of.
Several things in the last week have eroded my faith in humanity and snapped the last skinny little thread I've been hanging onto my self confidence with. Not to mention the nearly complete obliteration of my belief that it just may be possible for someone to fall in love with me exactly the way I am. But no, not in this town. I have Fat Potential written all over my thighs and I always will.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
I was always so excited to play at your house when I was little. I'm sure a good amount of that excitement came from Jackie, who told me there were frogs living under your deck. I never saw any. I was also very jealous of your pets and the tree swing in your backyard.
One night, my mom let me and a couple of my sisters sleep over at your house. I woke up in the middle of the night. It was really hot, and I had a rough time trying to get back to sleep. My edginess transitioned into absolute panic when my beloved blue silly putty slipped through a crack in the bed frame. I watched in horror as it rolled under the trundle bed, away from the glow of the nightlight. That's when I completely lost it. I started crying and crying. I know everyone in the house probably heard me screaming, and yet you were the only one who came to see what was wrong. After rescuing my silly putty from the dark abyss, you asked if it would be okay if you put it on the bookshelf. That way I could see it, but it would be safe from being dropped and lost again. I agreed. After I calmed down you went back to bed. Before I fell back asleep, I rememeber thinking it wouldn't be so bad to have a brother.
I'm sorry I never said thank you for saving my silly putty. It's one of the fondest cousin-memories I have from my childhood. I'm sorry you were so sick for so long. I'm glad you are in a better place now.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Dear Mystery Co-worker,
Thank you for practicing your irish folk dance moves in the break room while you are waiting for your leftovers to be warmed in our microwave. I applaud your time management skills. And thank you for facing the other direction so that I could film you. I only wish I had started recording sooner. These 5 meager seconds left me wanting more. As you were.
P.S. this is real. I heart BYU.
Sunday, February 7, 2010
I mean look at him shrugging his little shoulders to the beat of that song while he wails on that piano.
This WILL be my wedding song. And I will just die. Only my dress will not be nearly as awesome as Aunt Becky's. And I will use the version recorded by the Beach Boys in 1970 because Jesse and the Rippers will have no place at my reception what with their tight pants and mullets and frizzy haired bimbo groupies. Although I'm sure John Stamos would be honored to grace me with his presence.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Wednesday, February 3, 2010
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Pull that crap again and I'll feed you toilet paper. I will. Until we meet again, technology...
Monday, February 1, 2010
Love, but actually hate,