Last night I made the mistake of wondering about and then mentally calculating how much money I've spent on new jeans in the last 3 weeks. $310. Frig-a-doodle. But I had to get them. My weight gain has finally hit a nice and comfortable tableau at 13 pounds, but the problem being that once I got past the 8 pounds needed to get back to my normal weight, the extra pounds decided to settle in my personal problem area, which would be my waist. But I'm still blaming my ass. Now even my awesome and favorite jeans refuse to fit anymore. I started buying a few pairs here and there and then the big blowout came last night. I came home from work and happily decided to throw on some old jeans to laze around in. I headed into the spare bedroom where I keep my old jeans and started trying them on. None of them fit. Not one pair. They weren't even close. Unsurprisingly, lots of profanity and pants tossing ensued. Then I drove myself to the mall and picked up 3 more pairs of the only jeans that fit me. Because as I said, my ass is a snob. It's got expensive taste. It absolutely refuses to fit into reasonably priced jeans. I try to coax it, all, "C'mon baby, look at these Express jeans - they're $29.50. Look how pretty. Don't you just want to sit in them? C'mon baby, just give them a try. Look, they're giving you the eye. I think they like you," but to no avail. I guess I should probably be a little thankful that some medical issues prevent me from being able to wear the even more expensive super-duper-low "Look at my crotch" jeans, because my ass would be all over those. Stupid high-maintenance bitch ass.

My griping led me to think about this some more, and I don't really think that my ass ever got the memo that I'm a low maintenance chick. My feet finally got it when I was in 6th grade. Before that, they were growing at a ridiculous rate. I'm so glad that I didn't develop a deep love of shoes until later in life, because at one point I was outgrowing my shoes every two months or so. They finally settled in at a nice size 10 when I was in 6th grade. The rest of my body had yet to catch up, so I looked like I was wearing violin cases on my feet. It was quite fetching. The next year brought the advent of junior high and the beginning of my snooty ass. I hit the dreaded in-between land, where girl's clothes were too small, but junior's were too big. Luckily for me, back in those days Filene's had this glorious department known as 'Young Juniors' to cater to girls with this problem. And the clothes fit me perfectly. I stayed in that department for two years until I finally put some junk in my trunk. There was only one problem with the clothes in that department, which may also be why Filene's did away with it a few years later - the clothes were pretty much only made by Esprit and Guess. There were a few others thrown in the mix sometimes, (remember Generra??) but those were the main contenders. Maybe that was when my ass got used to filling out zillion dollar jeans. Criminy. Maybe I should try on some of my mom's Chic jeans just to piss my ass off and knock it down a few pegs. "Hey ass, Ooh la la, Sassoon, how do you like them apples?!"

It's quite possible I may overanalyze things just a bit much sometimes. [sigh]

_______________________________________

I had another conversation with Lucy this morning concerning the lyrical genius, Sir Mix-a-Lot:

Lucy: Ooh, I have a new favorite Snoop Dogg lyric. "I got some butter pecan Puerto Ricans from the boogie down."

Pam: Too bad you're not from the boogie down, or he'd be talking about you.

Lucy: I know. He rules.

Pam: You can't go wrong with Snoop.

Lucy: No way. He's like Robert Frost.

*** The rest of the conversation was performed in beat poet-ish/deep thinker-type voices, with lots of dramatic pauses. Think William Shatner reciting song lyrics or Jesse Jackson reading Green Eggs & Ham on SNL***

Pam: So bow down to the bow wow, 'cause bow wow yippy yo, you can't steal my flow.

Lucy: Yes, yes, he's like Poe.

Pam: Quoth the Dogg, "Nevermore, fool."

Lucy: Hee! It's like Sir Mix-a-Lot being like Mozart. He's geeee-nius. "My anaconda don't want none unless you've got buns, hon."

Pam: People just don't write like that anymore.

Lucy You can't. It's a sweet gift that he has. "So your girlfriend rolls a Honda, playing workout tapes by Fooonda." Just listen to that! "But Fonda ain't got a motor in the back of her Honda." Pure poetry.

Pam: It just rolls off the tongue, like sweet nectar.

Lucy: Indeed. Pure genius. It brings a tear.

Pam: Is it too late to nominate him for a Nobel Prize in lyricism?

Lucy: I think I need to go listen to some Snoop now.

Pam: Remember what that stone cold pimpin' raven says.

Lucy: Nevermore...FOO'!.

Pam: Word.

Celebrity Boyfriend of the Day: Ben Jelen
Come oooooooooooooon...and take your shirt off. Thank you.

Comments? Sign the book.

before & after





2007-09-26 - Follow Me!
2006-09-30 - Site Move & Favorite Entries
2006-09-25 - Evil Easter Bunnies & Rock Climbing!
2006-09-22 - Shameful-Purchase Hiding & A New Dentist Plan
2006-09-19 - Birthday Picture/Video Diary & The Wheelmobile





Copyright 2003-2006 by Sockgirlie. Stealing is wrong.