I wish I liked yogurt as much as those women on the Yoplait commercials. Their facial expressions look like they're getting their feet rubbed by George Clooney while the "Queer Eye" guys are out giving their husbands a makeover.
I'd finally gotten over my fear of watching the news (because the economic news always convinced me that the end was near.) Now swine flu has me worried about the demise of the human species. So I'm back to not watching news. Thank God for Cheers reruns...of course now I want a beer. Can't win for losing.
My body has changed but my mind still thinks fat. Had a bratty kid at the ballpark the other day giving me the business. I thought "yeah, pick on the fat guy you little tapperhead." Then I realized he was giving me the business because he was a bratty little kid. I have had several instances of folks staring my way while working my new, second job. Invariably my mind goes back to the hurt and embarrassment. But then I realized that I'm standing in a prominent spot with a green polo shirt on that says "STAFF" and some very important-looking credentials hanging around my neck, giving me the appearance that I know what's going on - and they just want to know where section 108 is located. Or where they can buy a funnel cake - I can't think of anything nastier, greasier or sweeter than a funnel cake. Every single night at least one fan comes up to me and says "I just saw someone with a funnel cake. Where can I buy one???" And the other night I saw a kid put ketchup on one...oh dear God..I'd rather kiss Rosie O'Donnell on the mouth.
Speaking of the ballpark, do you know how good stadium food smells? Everyday when I get to work the air is all grilled onions, hot dogs and barbecue. I'm quite convinced - based on prior experience with many stadiums and the food therein - that's it not as a good as it smells. But still, if they could bottle that smell I'd buy my bride some for her to spritz on her wrists. Yummers.
Speaking AGAIN of the ballpark (yes, there's been a lot of baseball in my life so far this spring) I'm going to be at a ballgame as a fan - not an employee - this weekend. Braves-Astros Sunday afternoon. I'm going to plant my newly narrowed butt into a seat wearing the Chipper Jones jersey Rhonda bought for me (OFF A RACK somewhere) and enjoy being a normal human being. She's promised me for several years that as soon as I was able she was taking me to a baseball game. There's an old poem (the title of which escapes me) that has a line drawing a comparison between the author's frustration to a "...a wounded eagle, staring at the sky..." In MUCH less dramatic fashion that was me watching baseball on television. I envied those watching in person, their ability to fit into the seats and the stamina to do the considerable walking. Now that I've rid myself of about 240 pounds you might see me doing the "OH MY GOD I'M ON T.V. AND THE COOLEST PERSON ALIVE!!!!!!" wave while watching the Braves.
I can't really recommend the Special K cereal with little chocolate chips in it. For someone that's eaten bland and no desserts for over a year it leaves me feeling like I ate a brownie the size of a Volkswagen for breakfast (or a funnel cake with ketchup on it.)