Sugar n Spice and all that other crapola

I need to visit a gym. I'm finding little rolls and hangy spots that were never there before.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not paranoid over gaining a little weight. In fact, I'm very happy to report about these little sightings around my tummy and back. I'm growing curves-I finally feel like a woman instead of a stick with boobs.

 This is a good thing.

And as for the gym, well that's just to turn these tiny areas into muscle, perhaps gain some definition rather than some attention for being noticeably thin.

I've never had an eating disorder, other than eating too much of a good thing. Some of my favorites?

Steak. Potatoes. Cheesecake. Chips & Dip. Strawberry Ice Cream. Banana Splits. Rice. Somoas (yes yes yes). Porkchops. Lambchops. Egg Salad. Ham. Cheese.

So basically anything edible is on my grocery list. Except:

Veal. Spinach. Vanilla Ice Cream. Liverwurst (That's the WURST!)

My big thing lately has been ice cream. BFF and I hit up the local Friendly's at least 3 times a week. You think I'm exaggerating?

Well, I'm not. And I can't really prove that to you, so I digress.

But anyhow, perhaps I will hit up the Fitness Center at school in a few months when I start to get unbearably chubby and miserable.

Until then I'm continuing my diet of chocolate Fribbles and cheese quesadillas and my exercise routine of clicking away the abundance of popups and free porn ads. As well as sitting around in my underwear watching "Sex and the City," drinking chai and crying because Carrie and Aidan broke up.

The one bad thing about life is that you can't pause it when things get shitty. Now is one of those times and I'm reaching for the remote to hit "stop" but it just doesn't work that way.

Stop.