I Am NOT Wonder Woman

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I am remembering why I do not diet. It makes me super irritable, gives me headaches and it makes me crave food that I otherwise would not give a second thought to.

Lately, I have been very good. I have been keeping up a impressive skin regimin, super-conditioning my hair once a week and all those things that are supposed to make you beautiful.

But. As I contemplate dragging myself home, doing something of substance for the evening AND my evening regimin of beauty, ALL without any sort of sustinence other than my lovely bile cocktail, I simply quiver in exhaustion.

I hate this. I HATE that I cannot DO IT ALL.

(Prepare to see my writing go downhill for the next twenty days. As if it weren't bad enough.)

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This odd narrative is my life. I ended up in Pittsburgh, of all places--from the beach. I have no hobbies, other than cooking excessively and eating microwave popcorn. I enjoy shopping, the Food network, hiding the remote so the Food network cannot be turned off, find ethnic food stores and restaurants and reading voraciously. My life is decidedly pedestrian.

I worked in the car business where I was required to be ruthless and soul-less wench, which is when I started this project. Since then, I've kept it up because secretly, I've always wanted to join the military. Every male in my mother's family has joined and I quietly entertain thoughts of joining. I haven't yet and don't know if I ever will, but sending the troops cookies keeps me sane. it makes me think I still have a shred of human kindness left in my withering soul. it's a small way for me to salute the men and women who are brave enough to fight for freedom. And makes me feel like I'm contributing toward troop morale--even if I'm not. So if you want to help, send me addresses of troops you know stationed overseas. you may also contribute toward the cost of chocolate chips, but don't feel obligated, that link is here only by request.

the past


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