Because I am a bad person

I am. I am a bad person. Right now I am sitting on the couch blogging while watching Police Women of Maricopa County. (You didn't actually think I only watched Cops, right) I've been thinking about The Shred for the last forty minutes, but I just can't bring myself to do it. I also ate a whole junk load of Oreos today and pizza, lots of pizza. And you know what, I don't feel bad about it.

I'm not completely sure that I really have what it takes to be skinny again. And at this point, I'm just thinking about it because I want to be the skinny, attractive new couple in the ward when we move. Have I mentioned how conceited I am? I already have to combat with a bald baby. I mean, yeah, she's cute and perfectly behaved, but she has no hair and I am bothered by it way more than could be considered normal.

Also, can we just discuss for a minute how many problems arise with marriage because of the different atmospheres and customs that people grow up in? I won't go into specifics, because interwebs I don't truly trust you, but seriously? I mean, seriously!?

In other news, this week a job which shall not be named, corporate office got an email about a "main manager dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt, wearing slippers, looking like she had just rolled out of bed." First, I don't go anywhere looking like I just rolled out of bed, remember how conceited I am? Second, I don't own slippers. Period. Flip flops, people, not slippers, and my toenails are perfectly painted. And third, I can't walk into a building without being mobbed. Lay off the jeans and sweatshirt. Rant over.

For the record, I have no idea what I weigh right now. I can't even think about how depressing that would be and quite frankly I've had enough stress this week.

Man, I sound bitter today. That's all. Please don't tell.

Heart,

Stacy