Operation Mini-Skirt: -50.8 lbs.
Mental State: Kind of stirring, churning, plotting, planning. I'm trying to rationalise some pre-planned sinning so as to avoid the consequent guilt.
Pre-planned sinning, you ask? Don't bother. You know very well that it all has to do with chocolate on Valentine's Day. I'm trying to figure out a way to ingest it so that is doesn't... stick.
I really need to get some help, don't I?
* * *
This. This is wierd. Check it out.
I had an odd sort of conversation with one of my favourite journalists yesterday. You could call her my idol, but that's slightly lame, and she'd probably roll her eyes. Nonetheless, whatever consistency of voice I've managed to achieve on this thing is inspired by her writings. Don't get me wrong. My voice is my voice, but I like to think that the technicalities of keeping it true and honest have been honed both by practice and by reading her writings. She's THAT good. Her articles paint a picture of a spunky, irreverent, modern, intelligent girl. Woman. Chick? No. Broad? Yeah, she's a swell broad. I'd emailed her previously about an article she wrote. She emailed me back. And then I called, and we spoke, and it was good. She's insanely perceptive. Knew right away what I was about. It was really rather startling.
Anyway, it seems that my name is going to appear in a publication, which wouldn't be so bad, except that it's my full name, and it'll appear where it shouldn't.
Huh? Exactly. I won't bother you with silly things like details, because I'll lose whatever irreverent, modern, spunky status that I may have ever accidentally achieved. *sigh* It's enough that it had me giving birth to cows and kittens and other assorted furry animals for a few hours yesterday...
S'all good. As long as I don't tell anybody anything, ever, I'll be fine. And if it's ever discovered, I've perfected the art of the blank and questioning stare.
* * *
It's not even 8:30 in the morning, but after that vague and silly explanation, I'm feeling rather piqued. A tad... edgy. I really want a muffin right now, or, like, a (large bag of) Hershey Kiss(es) or a loaf of bread with a bucket of butter. Something like that. Just a snack, you know? Something to get me through the next hour. Is that wrong?
* * *
Have a smashing day, my lovelies. Don't bother with good behaviour. That's for Mondays. Today is Wednesday. You can be slightly deviant. Go ahead, you have my blessings. Just donít tell your mother about it.
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