Occasionally, when telling a story and trying to ratchet up the funny, I will exaggerate, just a little. No harm done, as long as no one gets hurt and everyone knows the truth eventually, right? So, full disclosure: it's much funnier to say that my ex-boyfriend's gift of an Ab Lounge was his idea, but it was actually... his idea, but as a favor to me. He had the decency to say he had not noticed my weight gain.
But, some stories need no exaggeration whatsoever to be funny and awful, just my word that these are the facts, ma'am, and just the facts. Such stories comprise my life, my crazy, sit-com life, complete with a laugh track (when my friends are around). I'll probably over time change this blog into just a confessional of embarrassing moments, which might be therapeutic for me, and helpful to others to know their lives are so much better by comparison.
So... My worst moment of recent months was going to a fortune teller at a haunted hayrack ride in the middle of nowhere (first clue this night would suck), all of my friends were not allowed on one ride, so we waited for the second hayrack (second clue), by going inside a gypsy wagon off Highway 30 (third clue), to have our fortunes read via tarot cards (fourth clue; I mean tarot is the Velveeta of the fortune telling world. Even Psychic Sherry off Blairsferry Road reads palms, for an affordable $15 walk-in fee). So, Cathi and Orlando got nearly identical fortunes, and very good ones, which promised each a wonderful love life. I also asked about mine (should've known better), and after pulling card after card (and staring horrified down at her card table), the fortune teller gave up, fixed the blame squarely on me that her cards sucked, and said, "You have to work on yourself first." Thank you, Dr. Fortune Teller.
So, I am going to start (today!) working on myself. After being called fat for the second time in three months (and in my entire life), I bought myself an elliptical for my Christmas present to myself, and really, a gift to the world. If I lose weight and consume fewer resources, with my great big, fat ass, then I'm doing a favor to mankind, and more importantly, to womankind. Men can be such gomers.
But, not the men I love. See previous blog, written in a MUCH better mood. So thanks to Cath and Orlando, for always having my (baby got) back.