Bridget-esque like

I’m having a Bridge Jones kind of day.  Complete with jammies and general feelings of fatness…

Vegas Dress

i’m going to Vegas in early October.  my Vegas dress doesn’t fit.  this is bad.  very bad.

True Grit

Every five or six years, my mother guilts me into joining the extended family for a week-long vacation. 

(NOTE:  guilt is a horrible thing–  made even more horrible-er-er when mixed with a pinch of stinginess, a strong dose of negativity, and one f*cking giant wallop of general mean-spiritedness)

BTW, just in case any of you are dying to know, my daughter is rude– and getting fat– and i’m “really starting to show my age” and should make an appointment with a dermatologist PRONTO.

(i feel pretty, oh so pretty… )

And,  if any of you are thinking, ‘oh c’mon… it couldn’t have been all THAT bad,”  I give you TRUE GRIT:  an original breakfast story– 

On our very last day together at the beach house, my mother got up early to make a huge pot of homestyle grits.  Not only did she use the very last of my half-n-half (BITCH!) in her grits, but when she finished cooking, she proceeded to have the following conversation with my father and sister (while I’m sitting just two feet away on a kitchen stool– very much awake, and very much present in the room, after having said my round of good mornings):

MOM:  “Daughter #1, would you like some grits?”

Daughter #1 [MY SISTER]:  “Of course, I’ll get them…”  [MOVING TO GET GRITS HERSELF]

MOM to Daughter #1:  “Don’t move!… I have everything right here.”  [proceeds to dish out and take piping hot bowl of grits to D #1]

MOM to my DAD:  “May I bring you some?”

DAD [shaking his head at such a ridiculous question]:  “Well, yeah!”   [mom takes bowl to my dad]

IGNORES ME.  PROCEEDS TO MAKE BOWL FOR HERSELF.  SITS DOWN AT TABLE.

DAD [feeling bad that I'd been SO totally ignored]:  “Contessa, didn’t you want some grits?”

Contessa:  “Yes, I can get them for myself, thank you dad.”  [proceeds to get grits for self]

And that pretty much sums up my week of vacation.  Now, please excuse me while i go phone my doctor– the psychologist (NOT to be confused with the dermatologist).

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Stephanie Klein is Moose (errr, Mousse?)

Oh, she’s a dish alright (and gutsy to boot!). Enjoy…

more about “Greek Tragedy“, posted with vodpod

 

Fatty, Fatty, Two-by-Four

I weighed myself, gasped… and then I ran! 

Good lord, I haven’t seen those numbers on the scale since 1999.  Holy Moly.  I still think my thyroid is going bonkers again, despite the fact that I had it checked in the fall and the numbers seemed OK.  Will be having it checked again next week.  In the meantime, I’m gonna put a cork in it– and hit the pavement.  I’ve been a slack-ass lately when it comes to my running (weather has been hell)… but honestly, NO EXCUSE, as I have a full membership to one of the BEST gyms (if not the best!) in the US.

3.81 miles today (sunny, 70*F)– ’bout freakin’ time.

I will be thin, I will be thin, I will be thin (or die trying).  Run, Contessa, run!