Grooming thineself

Oh to groom, you MUST groom,

As a woman, your doom

Do you learn of these traits as you bake in the womb?

And a groom, it’s a male

Yeah it figures the plan,

To make woman self conscious

Was taught by a man.

Prickly legs or a MO?

Bushy eyebrows, Hell no!

It’s a shame that you’re covered in fuzz that must grow.

To pluck and to tweeze

Errant hairs, BAH disease!

Don’t you wish those damn hairs would just fall out with ease?

On the subject of hair,

We could go all day,

Coz there’s sideburns, and toe hair, “Unmentionable” dismay

And the make-up girls wear?

It’s face painting with flare!

When you highlight each feature, you see it’s all there.

Oh, and blend your foundation

Yes you must, you must know

Is that base, that you paste, on your face there for show?

When you wash it all off,

All the lotions and creams,

Cleanser, toner and moisturizer make your skin feel a dream.

We go on to the clothes, as you primp and you press,

Is it shorts you should wear, maybe jeans or a dress?

Think about the occasion, the weather, your shoes

Just …  flatter your shape, or you’ll be no-one’s muse

Then there’s hair, yes more hair!

Though I mean on your head,

If you’re lucky it’s perfect, when you rise from your bed.

The tools for this trade,

For construction? Not so,

Cement, putty and gel,

Hair extensions that glow?

Accessories to accessorize,

Oh my goodness, it’s fair,

To match earrings, I’ve found one!

Dammit! Where is the pair?

A necklace, a bracelet, should they really all match?

Would you help me connect, lift my hair, fit the catch

And a ring, yeah some bling!

Is a FULL matching set a necessary thing?

Oh the effort it takes, to prepare to be seen

And you constantly check yourself, pulling, you preen

You strap garters, wear half slips, bra’s, panties and more

All that energy spent, just to walk out the door.

The point?

Oh there’s none, don’t you read what I write?

But you wasted five minutes

Reading crap for the night.

Busty Orbs, Obviously Bothersome!

Let's take a minute ladies, to talk about boobs.

Boobs are functional, built for the nourishment of babes, to be enjoyed, sexual chocolate, but mostly ... annoying.

As the bearer of an unnecessary sized chest, I think to myself, why would anyone want to get a boob job to make their jugs bigger?

In my opinion, and since it's my blog, it's really the only one that matters, more than a handful of mammary is a waste. 

You know what big boobs give you?

• A sore back. Carrying 10 pounds of breast can cause some back havoc.
• You look chubbier than you truly are. For some reason, the eye is drawn to the widest part of the body, so big boobs draw the eye out, making the bearer appear larger than they probably are. There is scientific proof somewhere that this is truth.
• You have to buy bigger tops. Your tops have to be longer, to stretch over the expanse of chest. 
• Button ups? Forget it! Those buttons will be stretched and mishapen, and  the material under the bust will hang limp and shapeless.
• Demure and cute? Think again! With a bust that size, everything looks porny.
• Running? Be sure you've poured yourself into no less than two sports bra's, possibly three. You want to keep the ladies close and secure.
• Tight Tops? No
• Horizontal Stripes? No.
• V Necks? Be cautious.  If it's too low, you look porny. Too high? You look chunky.
• Halternecks? They'll break your neck.

• Permanent Bra Dents in your shoulders. These suckers can get HEAVY! And on that note ....
• Sleep in a bra. You want 'em to stay perky? Keep 'em elevated. Though that under wire may be uncomfortable, stabbing you whilst you rest, it's better than having droopy knee slappers that you have to roll up like socks and fold into your bra. Ah the imagery.
• Braless?NEVER!
• Check your blindspot. Under the shelf of your chest is your big busted blind spot. Sometimes you can pick up strays under there .. like  a pen, or a piece of paper, food, who knows? It happens. 

Once a month, when things expand, I want to still have 2 boobs, and not have them double into 4. I'd like to be able to breathe comfortable, and not feel like I'm heaving in a fitted dress.

I want to run without holding myself, sleep without being stabbed, and not have the ladies constantly trying to make an appearance by popping buttons on a daily basis.

I guess my point is, A cup ladies, I'm jealous. Enjoy the freedom you have!

Monday, Baking Day

And Monday = Life Style Change (Diet) day!

Let's get real for a minute people (myself).
 I'm a chub. Nice and chubby.

I'm not the self deprecating woe-is-me-I'm-so-fat sort of a person, looking for some sympathy.
I'm simply stating a fact.

I don't think I'm fat, I'm not overly obese, i'm just unnecessarily chunky.

Or pleasantly plump, which I like to say, coz it sounds far more cheerful doesn't it ?

My sister and I walked in to our mirrored elevator at work the other day and she was standing in front of me.

Now, she is a good 4 inches taller than me, so when I looked up and saw her in the mirror I had to do a double take, thinking it was me.

When she stepped to the side and I saw myself I started laughing, like cracked up loud obnoxious laughter. 

My reflection ?

It was like someone squashed my sister and her taller mass quickly became my shorter wider mass.

She's Luigi, I'm Mario.

Do I wonder, how did I get here ?

No. 
I know how I got here, I eat cake and crap daily, and I'm quite honestly surprised I'm not bigger than I  am with the amount I eat.

This isn't going to turn into a weight loss blog, or something like that, but I feel like writing about that fact that I'm sick of feeling like crap.

How do I get in gym time, and work, and devote what little time I can to my kids ?

Is it selfish of me to want to go to the gym ?

Portion Control for me ?

Non-existent. 

Why is it that my eyes are bigger than my stomach so I load my plate, then when I realize I can't eat it all, the need to not waste food kicks in and I consume it all ?

It's a vicious cycle, one I fully intend to break.

I don't want to be skinny, coz then I'd be the full package (HAHAHA) but I do want to be healthy and fit all my clothes and give myself a Merry Christmas, and since 1 month won't cut it, maybe a Happy New Year or at least be on the way to a Happy 2012.

Post Secret App

I know it's not a "secret" when you acknowledge you wrote it, but whatever.

I like post secret, when it's funny and insightful. 

Sometimes though, it can really drag the tears out of me.

I posted for the first time the other day, and here is my deep dark secret.

Ode to Sexy

Mr Giles,

This post is dedicated you and your amazingness.

Remember the first time we met ?

We were at a Halo party, you asked me if I knew your boy Butters ?

I thought you were a tool.
You probably thought the same of me.

Ahh, the good old days ;)

Remember the next time we "met" ?

We were at Tasi and Beka's potluck in the park across the street from the Omni apartments ...

You with your SUN-IN hair, me in my church clothes ?

Me and Mykie laughed at you, can't remember why ... (you musn't be that funny :P)

We didn't talk.

Mostly because I'm not friendly.

For your sake, it was probably a good thing.

Remember when we REALLY met ?

You came to my brother's wedding.
My hair was on my head nice and high, looking like a pair of testicles?

You "called" me, and then you laughed at me because I cut my hair.

I'm impulsive, what can I say?

Remember how we REALLY REALLY met ?

On the back of Beka's truck.

;)

Since we're about to celebrate 8 years of meeting and remeeting each other, I thought it was important to dedicate a post to you, and your sexiness.

You're the frosting to my cake

The cheese on my rice

The glaze on my donut

The corn in my beef

The toy in my happy meal

And no matter how many movies I watch or post pictures of hard-bodied, sweat glistening, shirtless men, you will always be the most beautiful man I've ever had the pleasure of seeing.

XOX

GAG AWAY PEOPLE! THIS IS LOVE!

Chubb-a-lubb

This is my fatty boom sticks measure. On days when I feel like a lard, I'm going to feel watermelon-ey. On days I feel skinny, I'll be a banana, pure genius!

Chicken Chips + Me = FATTY

My mum got here from New Zealand over the weekend bringing delicious chicken chips for me.
I ate two packets, in one sitting. Two packets have like 8 servings, so I had 16 servings, fatty fat fat.
I'm going to be nice and round eating all this goodness mum brought over. I should probably say pleasantly plump, it sounds better.
I'm going to have a peach body. It's my bottom level of obesity, on my obesity meter. Time to go to the gym so I don't hit the next level up.