I have a pair of size 2 jeans that I keep in my closet.
They don’t fit. On days when I feel super skinny, I’ll entertain the thought of trying to squeeze into them.
Entertain being the key word. Not that it’s actually entertaining. Receiving a muffin-top on behalf of your jeans is the biggest proverbial “fuck you, let’s be realistic” ever.
From here, I’ll open the bottom drawer of my dresser and pull out my huge sweat pants and begin to wallow in the self-inflicted ruins of my deflated self-esteem (dramatic much?).
The point here, is that I eventually stopped trying. Why would I repeatedly attempt something when the result just makes me…not happy?
Because I’m a female. And we do stupid shit sometimes. That’s why.
We all have those voices in our heads that tell us that what we are doing not only makes ZERO sense and is completely irrational, but that it’s also probably going to make us cry. Or eat a lot of chocolate. Or puke.
Or all of those things simultaneously.
But what do we do? Exactly what we shouldn’t. And what do we expect our friends to do? Listen to us cry about it.
Whatever. We’re stupid. And yes, I’ll go ahead and qualify myself as a participant in this ridiculousness. Been there, done that, a lot (thankfully my friends are fans of arson and the consumption of tequila).
I’m wondering when I’ll outgrow my love for it.
Maybe it’s due to an over-consumption of caffeine and too much free time?
Maybe I need a new hobby.