Melissa Jaret Winokur and Tony Dovolani are in the semi finals of Dancing with the Stars, yay. In a world where skinny bitches rule, Melissa is a full-figured girl with a lovely, bubbly, over the top personality. After days of writing to cleanse my soul of all the emotions, left-over from a rollercoaster eight year, on again, off again, non-relationship, I feel that I have been sensitive enough. So move over "in touch with your inner self Coffeewallah" welcome back, "no-nonsense, in your face Wallah".
I need to get this off my chest, again. My cholesterol, blood pressure, heart, health are not your business. Thanks for your concern, I appreciate that you want my well being but allow me to take responsibility for myself. You know, I can never understand, not that I try very hard mind you, why my weight, size, body is any concern of anybody other than my brother, who may yet have to take care of me in my old age, or the man that will someday choose to share my life. My very close friends are allowed to comment, only because they also have to put up with me. Other than that, sod off.
The only reason that I am seen in sneakers, pelting foot around the Savannah several evenings a week is because I want to. If there are any health benefits, and I very much doubt it from all the carbon monoxide fumes and uneven paved walk waiting to trip up the unwary, they are incidental. Understand this, after being cooped up in the grey, air conditioned to the point of discomfort box all day, every day, I want to be outside to commune with myself. It saves going home and kicking the hound because I've had a shitty day. After all, I cannot drink every day, that would make me an alcoholic and besides, it's too damn expensive. I despise the gym, all that posturing from the guys and gals all looking to pick up or be seen, as well as stale air, sweaty people shedding skin cells, Ugh.
To all intents and purposes I am a sturdy gal, with, as the Slacker can attest, hips, thighs, breasts. I'm never going to be a size two, I'm good with that, why can't you let me be. Yup, have got a bit of a stomach, so what, at least I don't have to worry that if I get lucky some man is going to hurt himself on my hip bones. I proudly confess that my ass, as huge at you say it is, has stopped traffic. I'm pretty sure one of the reasons the X-man hung around so long is because of my ass. He certainly had no complaints and he used to be a pin up boy.
I've come to the conclusion that the reason so many women have to tell me about my awful body is that they're threatened by me somehow. What is it, the fact that I have a brain, or is that I'm seemingly talented? It's okay, I know your men sometimes watch me, even though I don't go to the gym, enjoy my food, and wear clothes that I like as opposed to what's "cute". Because if I'm so out of shape or whatever else they're not interested and you have nothing to worry about, don't you? Relax sistahs, I don't like complications, I prefer my men unattached and my martinis shaken. Nuff said.