You Can't Hug Every Cat

So here I am. I may or may not have pulled an epic now you see me, no you don’t card. Flawless execution, impeccable mystery, and my sleight of hand (and or being) was on point. I never took myself for much of a magician but I feel magical for my ability to just free fall like Tom Petty always said to do.

So where was I? I was trapped in a glass case of a master’s degree program that I may or may not use to my benefit. The rest of the United States of the America’s does this so, it only made sense that I would jump on this band wagon too. I just love music and I can’t say no to a hay ride! YEEHAAAA, where the hell are my boots?!

So now what? Now, I try to figure out a new normal. Figure out what it’s like to only do one thing at one time. So far, seriously,

All aboard the STRUGGLE BUS! Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times until you feel like you’re ready to be your own stunt double in one of those really exciting action movies with THE ROCK (have you seen what this guy eats on cheat day?)

.......and explosions, and maybe a guy that looks like a spider and crawls on buildings, or MAYBE Chris Pine will be all like, “Hey Girl, I’ll beam you up” straight out of Star Trek during the only time it was cool, ever. Thor would be pretty neat too #hammertime. So what I’m saying is- someone should have some sort of cape and magical ability to lure me off of the struggle bus. Yeah do that because you know what’s not getting me off my bus?

Orange. Is. The. New. Black. (OITNB)

  

How long did it take me to watch the second season? One day. JUST one. Bingeing on Netflix was like on my top ten list once I broke out of grad school. The real world was just such a new and exciting place. I was scared at first, really. I didn’t know if I should contact my friends, I didn’t know if I should try to eat normal foods without saturated fat and a receipt that said “Thank YOU come again!” I needed to watch this. I had to watch this. I couldn’t stop. Why? Because I was an educated convict of the state of Virginia, trapped within the walls of learning and immediacy- TRAPPED within my personal expectations of “A’s” or die. Did you know you can’t get honors in graduate school? Do you know what that means? I hate myself. EFFORT is a bitch. I just gave too much of it, so not cute. I could have saved it, utilized it when the going really got tough. Truth be told- the going got more than tough but that’s why my hair is so big, it’s full of secrets. 

So OITNB, I’ll just wait another year to watch 13 episodes straight and be disgusted with my self-discipline and how it only arises when something commercialized goes straight to my hips. Damnit. #peoplesayimagingwell. OH SHIT. I’m aging, not a lot. I can’t complain about it yet. I don’t think I’ll ever really complain about my age unless I’m doing something really stupid- then I’ll complain, like cats. CATS, now that IS stupid. My sister is already on the crazy cat lady train and I just can’t jump on board.

  

Unless I have a cat that visually gets excited to see me, then we’re talking. I need a cat that smiles and can’t control its ass from wagging its tail too much when it’s just trying to say hello. If I find said cat, then yes,  I might start complaining about my age……because it’s stupid and not realistic. Reality checks are like super important for individuals who are entering the life of the late-twenty somethings or who are entering the life of the early thirty somethings. Why are these reality checks super important? BECAUSE, when shit happens, life happens. BUT WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?! It means, breathe, stretch, shake, and leeeeeego. If there is a rule book for what I should be doing as a 27-year old woman, than by all means throw it my way. Sounds like some excellent late night reading!!!! OH the HUMANITY of engagements, weddings, babies, christenings, job promotions, and the FACEBOOKS telling me “Yo, girl…..you look supafly not doing what everyone else is doing.” WOAH, rude Facebook, AND it’s not my fault that you pick up on the people that I’ve been stalking. Girlfriend had a ROCK, of course I needed to stalk that shit. NOW, now she’s all up on my news feed. Just rude- there is way more going on. Like the funny cat videos you ALSO strategically put in my news feed. Haha, silly kitties. NO, this is what’s happening. IT’S YOU Facebook that could be the demise of all my good juju. I’m too young to complain about my age and we’ve already been over that Cats=ohhellno. 

 Wear your seat belt, raise your hand, make good choices and stuff....Yeah. Cats. Hell no. #okmaybe #fluffy #ImnamingitSteve

Keep EATING, skinny bitch!

Well, it’s become apparent to me that these skinny bitches need to keep eating. Oh sure, I may have my quips and quarrels and infinite battles with chocolate, cookies, and/or cupcakes, but these super skinny bitches NEED to stop digesting dust particles and oxygen as their daily BLD (Breakfast, lunch and dinner). 

While everyone is saying, “OH DAMN Girl, you are so skinny. You look so good, oh look, oh look at them legs, and that hair and your arms, oh girl you are hot.”  You know what I’m saying? “I’m not going to gain or lose A SINGLE POUND. NOPE." I’m just going sit and buy my time because ONE DAY everyone is going to say behind her BACK “Ohhh have you seen blahblahblah on facebook? Looks like girlfriend got into the Twinkie factory and decided to not come out for seven years. WHERE’S THE CREME FILLING? No big deal." 

Do you know what they will say about me? “Heather LOOK’S exactly the same! Look at her go.” AND YOU KNOW what I did? I just wasn’t a skinny bitch when everyone else was….that’s the plan bitches and I’m sticking to it. I’m staying the same while everyone else can ride on that rolllllercoaster of hating themselves and yoyofreakingdieting. Ok yeah,  I go the gym often, BUT I’ll never be a skinny bitch. Nope, I’m good. I’m on the STAY THE SAME FOR-EV-ER diet. Eventually, I’ll be the skinny bitch by default. Win.

However, If someone wanted to sabotage my epic plan for normalcy and throwing-off the typical status quo for the mom’s of Amurica and stuff road I’m driving on, well, let’s just fast-track my impending diabetes now. The three S’s of H-Lo’s death consist of Sugar, Some more Sugar, and So much Sugar I’M GONNA DIE. I welcome this death with open arms. I don’t know what it is or how my sweet tooth has been devastatingly triggered but someone should just stick me with an IV needle and pump the sweet sweet nectar directly into my veins. 

THEN the type 2 diabetes will kick-in WELL before my time and instead of sabotaging my plan you’ll do me one better. I’ll be a miserable wreck, on suicide watch, and dreaming about cake for the rest of my life BUT, I won’t be able to eat it(ohhh heyyyy suga free get on mah level) increasing my chances of normalcy and staying the same FOR-EV-ER, yet another WIN.

Another way you skinny bitches could really mess with my expertly thought-out plan is by staying a skinny bitch. NOT OK. However, I feel that most skinny bitches want to have families and houses and people and stuff. In which case, at some point THEY will not be a skinny bitch…..only for nine months at a time BUT in those NINE months I’ll be the winner. I’ll be there encouraging you to eat as much as you want, as you can, and convincing you that you are going to have a second or third surprise lingering in your combustible belly and that you might as well eat for 4 just in case. 

Again, no big deal just another WIN. Good try Skinny bitches, good try. 

People come and go. We change and rearrange everything in our lives as time progresses but it’s a fact of life that Skinny Bitches will NEVER be skinny bitches for-ev-er. They might just be bitches…and well, that sucks.

I, however, will STAY THE SAME FOR-EV-ER (within reason). I mean I know when I creep-up that ladder of experience, years and wisdom, I’m going to have bigger ears, smaller feet, a hump on my back, and I will become an incredible shrinking woman. My Mom was 5’7”/ 5’6” for the majority of her adult life. We have been the same height for several years, but HOW TALL IS MOM NOW? Mom is 5’3”, SHE’S 5’3! That’s like 3-4 inches…..GONE. CYA! She’ll never know what the view is like any more. It’s a rough life, I know it, believe me I do. But I’m telling you I’ve got this whole thing worked-out Skinny Bitches: 0, Heather: any number greater than zero.

Win.