I watched a program about models early today. The woman at around 700 calories a day, and she was tall with blonde hair, naturally, blonde hair. She worked out to get killer abs but was weak, and this confused me. Beauty is sometimes a curse. I equate models as a sport due to all it takes.
Well, I am fat. I got into trouble for going over the counter. I was not blamed for a mishap today as I was gone learning about Virgil. I'm just known to do it at night. I decided to eat a bigger dinner so that there would be no need to snack. I've lost control in this realm of life: my weight and appearance. I don't have the social pressure I used to.
Belly doesn't look so good.
They say nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, but this woman on TV enjoyed spending a day eating like a body builder, and he ate like her and far from satisfied. In the end, she consumed more calories than usual and perked up. I hope she didn't puke.
And what an afterlife? Models don't make tons of money. When they time out, there's no work for them. What do you become after a supermodel? An old face to hate? A mother who pushed you too far? Guys who didn't love you after 30?
I like potato chips with sour cream. I like to sit on the couch, gross but comfy, and watch the "Carol Brunette Show." Most TV sucks these days.
And get off my lawn :P
No comments:
Post a Comment