Monthly Archives: October 2007
Dear Aunt Val,
Why are guys jerks? I’m about 120 pounds and my boyfriend just said I need to lose 5 or 10 pounds. Or risk losing him. Despite having gained a few pounds, I’m still cute and sexy. I’m still me.
Pissed Off at Guys
Number one, guys aren’t jerks. Some people are jerks…your boyfriend is one of them. You can handle this two ways:
1) Handle it with a smart ass remark: I.e. “Ok. You gain a few more inches where it counts. Then I’ll ditch the weight.
2) Get rid of him. It seems he’s only interested in what is a socially acceptable weight. (This is my recommended idea.)
And people wonder why women end up making them sick just to fit in.
I think it’s because the show has made me laugh some dark times.
I had just moved home from Job Corps, had just started a job. Did I get my old room back? No. I got relegated to a trailer not unlike the one pictured below. I was *allowed* full kitchen and bathroom privileges. Yippee for me.
I lived there for about a year. It was cold in the winter and hot in the summer. The longer I stayed in there, the more apathetic I became. I felt, honestly, like someone unwanted.
Then I discovered The Simpsons. It was so different than any other show. It made me laugh and feel good. I don’t know why, but the show was magic for me. It gave me something to look forward to, and I was astonished to discover just how sophisticated and adult the writing was.
(Plus, my parents HATE The Simpsons. Guess they didn’t get the social satire.)
All that said, even I think the show is not as good as it used to be. I love it, I just think that Groening needs to stop competing with the slap crappiness of the Family Guy and hire some better writers.
Yes, I have a Wii of my very own. It’s cool. I have only one game, it’s a sports one, but it has boxing–which I tried out and loved. There is nothing so satisfying as punching the air around you.
Still, if any of my faithful readers have a game they are tired of… send it my way. 😀
I’m not positive. My folks’ health is so-so. For Dad, he’s surprisingly hale despite having diabetes and after a battle with cancer. Mom? I
don’t know. She doesn’t talk about her health. I know she has a tendency to shake and fall down some, doctors do not know what she has, but that’s it.
I don’t know what I’ll end up doing if something happens to one of them. Both of them need someone in their day-to-day lives. Mom’s eyesight is not good (she’s 77) so her driving ability is extremely limited, and Dad can’t do anything having to do with the checkbook. And Dad needs someone to make sure he doesn’t get into too much chocolate and/or fast food…as well as help in reading. The world is a cruel place to those who can’t read.
Maybe I’ll volunteer to work something out with them if the worse should happen. I don’t want this to happen, but maybe we’d end up living together.
I feel bad thinking about this, but it’s an odd feeling seeing my parents–whom I once considered so invincible–seemingly melt into old age. It hurts in an obscure, undefinable way.
Getting old is a fact of life. It’s a fact that gets hammered into me every time I see them.
Despite our differences in just about every opinion under the sun, I consider it my responsibility (my step sister Deb would help out with Mom, but I wouldn’t trust my half sister–Penny–as far as an ant could kick her) to take care of my folks.
Chances are, I’ll never marry*, so it won’t really matter if I end up living with one of my parents. Maybe we’ll end up taking care of each
other…and fix our relationship before it’s too late.
*Any volunteers? 😀
This month is Breast Cancer Awareness Month.Men, go ahead and feel up your (DO not grab some strange woman off the street, else you get slapped) lady. I’m not sure if you guys actually get familiarized with the weight and texture of your lady’s mammary gland, but you should.
On behalf of all women, I know that I’d want to be told if my partner found something while ….ahhh… mountaineering. Seriously, SPEAK up. Sometimes, it’s hard for us to find a lump. Do not be hesitant. Chances are, the lump is nothing really serious, but why ignore it?
I don’t want to bore you with a bunch of statistics, but remember that many of those statistics is a wife, mother, sister and daughter. And some of those numbers are men–so men, if you get a hard bump, go to the doctor.
Why do people tell you to stay a kid for as long as you can? Yet as soon as you do anything childish or immature they tell you to grow up?
Just a kid at heart.
Because mean people always want to torment and ridicule you! Maybe they like seeing you run around tearing out your hair in frustration. There is nothing more interesting than watching a frustrated man running around screaming for release.
Remain a kid at heart. But be a vengeful kid…like that brat in Problem Child. If they give you crap, say that you could always be like Damian.
That oughta shut them up good.
Comics today. Not only did they kill off Thor (it’s ok the REAL Thor is alive and extremely handsome with his bushy red beard) they portray women with miniscule waists and big bongos!
OK, so mine are the size of watermelons, but at least I have a figure that can support my magnificent bosoms. (The metal bra helps) Women in comics, though, defy the laws of gravity with their flotation devices. In reality, their legs should be telescoping into their chest, or they should be continously falling over.
I think those comic book artists just want to make their man boobs look smaller.
Gorgeous picture of my third favorite X-chick. (Behind Rogue and Jean Grey) Storm’s a pretty cool character. A little uppity, but cool.
Oh, if you have any questions, for Aunt Val, please leave them in the comment section. I’ll be doing my advise column on Monday. Otherwise, I’ll just have to get creative again and we can’t have that!
I fight every day. I scratch, gnaw, bite, gouge and kick my way just to make it through with my sanity intact on a daily basis.
I am a fighter. I hate giving up, though I may occasionally just take a break from a project/activity. Still, that’s not the same as actually giving up. It may be a fine line between the two, but it’s there. I just realized how much of a struggle I’m in to lose a hundred (or so) pounds. It’s actually pretty scary–more so than any horror movie. (Except those with *shudder* slugs in them.)
It’s hard to get and stay motivated. I have to find some sort of carrot to dangle in front of my nose… I know. When I lose 25 pounds, I’ll get some new clothes. 50? More new clothes–and maybe a bigger MP3 player. At 75, I’ll undergo a complete makeover. When I reach that golden “100”, I’ll treat myself to a trip to Disneyland. Or something like that. It might be nice just to go someplace warm and become one with the sand and the piercing aqua blue water. It’d be sweet to have a good looking cabana boy offer me a margarita with one of those tiny little parasols.
This exercise/incentive program is going to have to be on hold until November, though, because of training. It’s just too chaotic right now (and I’d be setting myself up for failure) to start it. My workplace has a gym…and I’m going to sign up again. I quit last time because I was too self conscious.
This time, I resolve not to care if people stare at me as I lava lamp my way to fitness on the treadmill.
Gyms are for fat people too, after all.
Work is really sapping my energy right now; I’m both learning a new system while continuing to work on the old one.
It’s stressful. It sucks.
But…I would like to pass onto you the secret of life before I conk out: You CHOOSE to be happy. You choose your own path in the world