I hate to start out a blog entry like a whiney, maladjusted teenager complaining about the petty trivialities of life, but as it turns out I HAVE EXACTLY THREE MONTHS LEFT to milk this sentiment, so milk it I will.

I am miserable right about now. If you have assumed larger thigh, gut & arm diameters as the culprits of said misery, then clearly the world makes no humans more astute than you!


According to the official tone of mother's bathroom scales, I am six pounds heavier than I was at this time last month. My clothes fit more snugly than necessary, my face is fuller than Miley Cyrus's ego, & I just feel generally more sluggish. This is not a ploy for sympathy, compliments or offers for your leftover ice-cream; in fact, I will disable comments for this post so as not to receive anything of that nature. This is me being genuinely frustrated at my nutritional complacence this month. I love food, lovers pastpresentfuture will collectively attest to feelings of inadequacy in the presence of my greatest love - anything edible. I never deprive myself, but I do subscribe to the mentality of 'eating in moderation'. Frankly, I am just annoyed at my absolute lack of willpower this month. Around the easter chocolates, oreo McFlurries, Red Rock Deli Chips, & abundance of carbscarbscarbs, I had about as much restraint as Sienna Miller at a married men's charity dinner.

Dear Body, I am sorry for being mean. I solemnly swear not to abuse your trust between me & binge-eating tendencies.

On to finer things,
long-time readers of my erratic ramblings may recall Paneer - the ghost in my house I named after a staple(?) of Indian cuisine. Well, it seems as if he has been lonely. So much so that he is inviting friends of his ethnic variation to stay at our house. Apparently there is someone called Suneeta De Silva now living in my house, seeing as Wedding invitations adressed to her are making their way into my mailbox. This is not a case of previous house owner's mail is being sent to the wrong adress. This is the case of placid ghost, but nonetheless still ghost, in my house. You see, there are no previous owners to this house. We built it.

Also, I peeled an eggplant today with my fingers & I must admit it is a most difficult task! Commeting on its incredibly squishy nature, I told my mother, "Good thing breast implants aren't made out of eggplant, hey!" I don't think she was as impressed by my observation as I was.

Just saying.

Posted in: babyporridge, fitness, hungry ghost, indians, more cushion for the pushin, nikki malvar, webcam on Thursday, April 23, 2009 at at 2:39 PM