They say that you know you’re gaining weight when black guys start hitting on you.
I’m not sure if anyone says this.
But I know I am gaining weight because aside from black guys hitting on me and the self-abusive conversation I have with myself each morning about the progression of my third trimester (I’m not pregnant), I recently got a speeding ticket. I know that is not a measurable factor here, but I have never been ticketed in the past. This is typically what happens when I get pulled over:
I lean out the window and ask, frantic and alarmed:
“IS EVERYTHING OKAY?!?!?!”
As if I am being pulled over to counsel him on marital troubles or American Idol voting techniques. He replies something about a child chasing a ball, and no crossing guard around, and federal imprisonment. I sigh, relieved, and hand him my license, unable to find my insurance or car registration.
After about 12 minutes of probing questions, among other things 😉 I am asked to avoid schools zones and any properties containing live, white children, and detour through the ghetto anytime I want to drive recklessly.
But unfortunately that only works when your body is not protruding past the restraint of your seat belt and your eyes aren’t being forced back into their sockets by pounds of cheek and eyebrow fat. Therefore I maintain that the only explanation for my receiving a ticket is the blubber effect. Definitely not the driving 53 in a 25. No. That can’t be it.
I’m blaming my weight gain on a number of factors, most of which I will not have the time or patience to tell you about. Here are three I can stomach. Hehehe. I’m so clever.
1. My ever increasing American guilt. Perhaps it is my preference to radical liberal politics over false patriotic conservative politics that results in the inordinate amount of time I spend each day mourning Middle Eastern people I will never meet. Not just because they’re dead. But mostly because they’re dead. This leaves me depressed and anxious and forced to resort to binging on food no Middle Eastern person would ever eat. Not just because they’re dead. But, really, mostly because they’re dead.
2. Sushi. When eaten by Japanese people or bulimic teenagers, sushi can be very healthy. But when eaten by an American woman at a Chinese buffet 10 minutes away from her house, once a weekend, sometimes twice, depending on how much she hates herself that day, it is not good. It is embarrassing. Not quite a “legitimate rape” comment, but definitely a “binders full of women.”
3. Co-workers birthdays and other work-related food-oriented events. Every day in my office someone is either turning 50, hitting menopause, or inviting a politician to tour the school, all of which are equally disgraceful and handled with mass quantities of food. Even when I am trying to eat healthy I am bombarded with oatmeal cookies, or cheddar cheese slices, or Halloween candy hoarded away in my desk drawer. There is no escape!
I realize this doesn’t sound like a Thanksgiving Day post yet, but allow me to explain. My obsession with my weight sounds a little insecure. But I’m okay with that. In fact, I’m grateful that I am insecure and in a constant state of emotional anguish. Why? It keeps me from being a dick.
If you know anything about me, you know that the leading cause in my life is asshole prevention. If I lost weight and became confident and hot, I’d become even more self-involved and arrogant than I already am, and before you know it I’d be someone really evil like Kourtney Kardashian.
So to sum this whole thing up, this Thanksgiving I am grateful for many things.I am grateful for insecurities that keep me grounded. I am grateful for police officers that don’t tase me. I am grateful for the black guys who hit on me. I am grateful for my sister who is a registered dietician who will help me lose weight again. I am grateful for my boyfriend who I never talk about but exists quite fully in my life. I am grateful for the new wiper blades on my car. But lastly I am grateful for this, taken from the Facebook page of a person I actually know:
Doesn’t get much better than that.
Happy Thanksgiving everybody! I hope you are all grateful for something (me).
The girl who last year was thankful for assholes, but this year is thankful for mouths. Ew.
In my family, giving thanks is a pressure-packed experience. No matter which side of the family I am visiting, I feel unreasonably burdened to announce some profound reason to be thankful, that will on one hand encapsulate my intelligence, wit, and probability of getting to heaven, and on the other, not come off as cliché, mind-numbing, or worst of all “hack.”
You may be asking yourself, why? Why, Lena, are you concerned with coming off as a holiday hack? The entire purpose of giving thanks on Thanksgiving is to make up for a full year of not appreciating anything or anyone in your life. No matter what you claim to be “thankful” for, it is going to sound original and unique, since nine times out of ten it’s the first time you acknowledged it this year. And to you I say, true.
But this year, I am visiting my Dad’s side of the family. They are thoughtful, they are insightful, they excel at games like Taboo and Scattegories. They aren’t going to be impressed if I say I am thankful for NBC’s hit show “Parenthood” airing Tuesdays 10/9 central, or the giant one pound container of Sabra hummus now being sold at Wal-Mart. They will scoff. They will throw strawberry jam in my face and ham loaf in my eyes as they laugh me out of my grandparents’ house and into the cold, icy, atmosphere of a world where people say thanks for stupid things and Mitt Romney is a Presidential frontrunner.
But I don’t want to be in that world. Not when there are other options, like gracious appreciation and Ron Paul. No. This year I am going to blow their minds with thanks that are so original, so poignant, so “non-hack,” they will have no response other than to weep tears of joy for the fact that I exuded such wisdom during the fifteen seconds of floor time I have when going around the table. Don’t believe me? Read on, suckers. Tell me this doesn’t make you cry:
Lena’s Thanksgiving Speech (to be read verbatim) at Thanksgiving Dinner
Family, friends, and relatives I only see once a year. We have all gathered here today, to show our appreciation and our thanks, on this loveliest of all fall holidays. I am sure you are all anxiously awaiting the unveiling of my reasons to be thankful on this Thanksgiving 2011. So please, kick back, take a load off and put the load right on me, as I regale you with unnecessary descriptive detail of the number one thing I am thankful for this year.
This year I am thankful for:
Yes, I said it. Assholes. Not physical assholes, but euphemistic assholes. The kinds who speed up to pass you and then proceed to drop 15 miles below the speed limit for 9 miles of one lane traffic just to be, you guessed it, an asshole. The kinds who you haven’t talked to for several months or years but email you at random just to tell you that you misspelled something in your Facebook profile just to be, you guessed it a condescending asshole. I think you grasp my meaning.
But the thing is I have come across a lot of assholes this year; and not just petty, douchebag types as described above. The assholes I know, don’t mess around when it comes to being an asshole. They are real, serious, no-nonsense, “I act like this year round, go swallow some lighter fluid if you don’t like it,” kinds of assholes. Assholes who give buckets of rotten fruit as gifts to people recovering from heart attacks. Assholes who get involved with you just to have their girlfriend text you a few weeks later. Assholes who leave their wife and screw around with someone else while their wife pays for the mortgage, debt, and marital costs on her own. Assholes who go to the doctor, just to ensure one more day of being an asshole. I think you grasp my meaning.
The only explanation I have for the abundance of assholes I know in my life, is that I too, am probably an asshole. But that is another issue, for another holiday. Probably Easter.
On this holiday, Thanksgiving, I say I am thankful for assholes. I am thankful because, if it were not for the assholes in our lives, we would not have any ability to appreciate all of the non-assholes we know. Because of them, we always have someone worse to compare our friends, family, spouses, and co-workers to, who will make those freeloading jackasses seem like a good deal.
So this Thanksgiving, don’t give thanks for your mediocre husband. Give thanks for your previous asshole boyfriends who messed you up so much you are willing to settle and even be thankful for some second-rate toolbag, instead of someone awesome. Don’t give thanks for your obnoxious but reliable friends. Give thanks for the asshole people you knew years ago who lowered your expectations so far that you are willing to tolerate some boisterous loser instead of someone fabulous. In short, give thanks that the people in your life, aren’t as bad as the assholes who aren’t.
So? Tears of joy? Tears of Rage? Tears of boredom? I don’t care! Because you know what? I have achieved the impossible. For the first time, in all of my years, my Thanksgiving thanks is NOT going to be hack! It is going to be interesting! Funny! Insightful! In desperate need of censorship! Regardless, I have fulfilled my duty, now it is time you fulfill yours.
“What are you, dear readers, thankful for this year?” I ask aloud in bemused wonderment. Could it be me? The girl with the blog? I doubt it. I’m the only one thankful for assholes. But share with me and share with the world. Or don’t share at all. I don’t care anyway.
The girl who is thankful she managed to cleverly make two references to The Band in one blog posting.
PS: Find both references and I will think life is a carnival.
PPS: I just made three.
PPPS: Happy Thanksgiving, Holla.