Something strange is going on around here. It’s like a whole bunch of guys are just now noticing me. One of my neighbors said, “You’ve put on weight. You look great.” Uhm…really? Because from where I stand my ass is ginormus. And the boobs? Where the fuck did they come from? I’ve never had boobs in my life. I gain 10-12 lbs and boom! Boobs. Do. Not. Want.
So does this mean that everyone thought that I looked like shit before? Were guys thinking, “She’d be so much cuter if she actually had an ass and some boobs.” Is this why I’m single? I just needed to gain some weight? I just don’t understand. I’m really, really confused and don’t understand weighty stuff at all. The truth is, the minute I’m back to running anything more than 20 miles per week, I’m going to drop right back to the size I was before. This is not a humblebrag. This is the truth. I’m 5’1″ and petite.
How do I know that this weight is going to be gone soon? Because of this:
Now, you’re probably wondering why I have no shame and am showing you my disgusting apartment. And, yes that might be a pair of panties on the floor. (I’m really not sure. Could be a bra or something.)
Anyway, this is exciting for me because those are all running clothes. Running clothes that were dirty and had to be washed*. There might be a dress or 2 on there, but all the rest are running shorts, sports bras, running socks, some shirts, hats, hair accessories, and my Road ID. (There’s also a single work glove on there. Not sure what that’s about either. I wonder if it’s even mine.)
What does this all mean? It means that my ass has been running!!!!!
I’ve given up on distances and time and have just been making sure that I head out the door daily. Some runs are 20 minutes. Some are 30-40. Some suck. Some don’t suck as much. Whatever. I’m running and that’s all that matters for now. Woohoo!
My incision still kind of bugs and I still feel huge. I also still drink a bit too much most nights, but I am getting shit done. Like a boss! I even chicked my neighbor yesterday. Poor guy. He got passed by a woman at least 10 years his senior that had a belly full of tumors a few months ago. Ha ha ha!
Finally, the only reason I used that title for this blog post is so we can all dance to this:
*Note: I never dry my running clothes. I think it bakes in the funk!
Ohhhh….and I promise gangsta stories. Just got to get them organized a bit.