Here, There, and Everywhere

Bruh bruhs,

The winter  break has brought out the night owl in me. Since I don’t have to work tomorrow morning, I thought seriously about attending yet another event tonight. (That makes five nights! That’s like a workweek of being “in those streets” as mama likes to say.)

Instead, I have decided to sit in my bed with a cup of soup, a turkey sandwich, and the world wide web.

Facebook is sucking my brain out of my eyeballs. I am loving every second of it.

Beyond that, I think that I am developing ADHD because of all of the ads and links that I follow. My internet travels are like a Family Circus comic.  Image

Right now, I have three tabs open: Facebook, Fatgirlslikeniceclothestoo, and Local drawing classes.

Let’s see where the next 15 minutes take us.

  1. Online Stopwatch : I got to be official.
  2. Facebook: I added two new friends. I forgot that I was supposed to do that earlier today.
  3. FGLNC2: Again.
    1. I’m looking for more info on affordably gorgeous clothes.
    2. What’s that I see? A comment I left with no gravatar. Oh, no I didn’t. I must change that NOW.
    3. Rummage through my computer to establish a gravatar.
      1. Um, this is n-o-t working.

                                                               i.      Oh, well, let’s update the email account.

  1. Gmail to change my blog’s email account.
  2. Back to WordPress to attempt the gravatar change once more.
    1. I totally give up . .. For now.  . .
    2. FGLNC2! Ooh. Clothes!
      1. 8:11 Gawk at baby daddy geometrical dress.
      2. Cringe at £139.00 price tag. Sigh. (Might I add, I really thought Britain was on that whole Euro thing. Guess I better read the news. I would’ve definitely lost that bet. What else don’t I know? Yikes.)
      3. Ooh, a list called Fat Lifestyle Blogs. Drooling . . .
        1. Clicked on Corpulent
        2. Now strapped into school . . . This is a fat acceptance site, but not a thing is light and fluffy about the Read This First link.
        3. 8:15 now at Discourse by Dr. Samantha Thomas reading about Weight. An Emotional Issue.
          1. Brain wrinkling. This is deep.
          2. Riiiiinng! Tab Count 9
          3. Bonus: Facebook Check!
            1. New friend!

This is winter break. This is my life right now.

This is delicious.

Hoping it was as linky for you as it was for me. 
– Bossy

Waiting to Exhale

It has been politely suggested that I try a torso shaper. Thanks. But now I think that you’re trying to kill me.

I have seen them, and already I shiver in fright. I am not trying these without some more guidance. Now, I must admit I like my Spanx, but sometimes they are not enough. Are there such things as Flogx?

First of all, why do catalogs always show skinny people modeling body shapers? I want to see a true before and after. I don’t want to see someone who can’t pinch half an inch become perfected. I want to see someone who has lady lumps in unlady like places. I’m talking four breasts because only half of them fit in the bra. I want to see a body shaper on her.

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Secondly, I want to make sure that these body shapers don’t dig into my flesh like chastity belts. I’m quite chaste enough. I don’t need to be chafed too. Seriously, I have worn knee highs that left me with scars. Sometimes the elastic of underclothes can take its job too seriously. I want my fat rolls to be roped in. I don’t want to be left with rope burns.

Apparently, there is a store in my city that specializes in hard to fit shape wear and underclothes. I’d like to visit them soon to see what they can suggest.

Until then, I’m happy to breathe without being kidney punched by a modern day corset. And until you tell me otherwise, I’ll think that all torso shapers are just bear hugs in disguise.

Waiting without bated breath,

Bossy

I’m cute. Feed me!

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Bossy Belly is considering returning to school to do something awesome, flavorful, and self-directed. I called my mom and said that I wanted to go back to grad school, she replied, “Great, but you need to know how you’re going to support yourself because you’re grown now.”

I am writing this for two reasons. Well, three. I want to be able to document the actual day that my mother admitted that I am an adult and I want there to be witnesses to said fact. Finally, after all these years of fighting for her to actually say those words, I would now like for her to take them back.

I, at almost thirty, would like to shout that I still think my parents are unfair. I’m stomp through the house, slam my door, and scream angry about this. I have seen other people receive so much from my parents over the years and now, I am told not to even ask because the option is not there. I feel very prodigal son’s brother like.

I can say that I do appreciate the warning because I like to eat and I’m going to need to do that during graduate school—albeit less.

Anyone who has read two day’s of Bossy Belly knows that I never cringe at a binge. I’m going to have to fund my habit while I go back for the Master’s.  

Here’s to financial aid,

Bossy

Pho is Vietnamese for Goodness.

Tonight I Zumbaed. I loved it. I got to shake what my mama gave me without feeling like I’d need to repent later. Plus, there’s no cover for a dance class. I pay my dues once a month, so I can have all the Pitbull inspired steps those hour long classes can hold.

My instructor turns off the lights and uses a rotating club light during class. Apparently, some people have complained about the dimly lit room. I love it. I feel more comfortable shaking my salt shaker when I feel like people really can’t see what I’m doing it. The darkness lets me hide, and I’m OK with that.

What did I eat after the class? I had Vietnamese pho soup. De-li-cious. It’s up there with Camicakes for making you want to go through the maternity ward and slap everybody: all of them, mothers of twins can get it twice.

I really like Little Saigon Café in Orange Park. I’ve only tried one other place in Jacksonville, but this place is great. When you put the cilantro, basil, an sprouts in the broth it’s like the freshness oozes into the soup and you wonder why you ever eat anything else—ever. Tonight I had seafood pho with shrimp, squid, and scallops. Sometimes I get the House Pho with all types of beef in it, but tonight I felt like eating with the fishes. Glad I did.

Get you some mo’ pho soup tonight,

Bossy

 

 

 

What Not to Wear: The Gut and G-Cup Edition

Today I have discovered Fashion bloggers. I’m not going to say anything about any of them yet because I don’t know internet blogging etiquette . . .

OK. I lied. I just came across Fatshopaholic. That lady is the business. I would like to marry her blog and let our hypothetical, chubby, ultraliterate progeny take over the blogosphere.

Alas, Computer Love is only a song. Sigh.

Well, I’m looking for information on plus size bloggers because I need help. I’ve said it, and I will say it again—The Gutstapo is out to get me. My stomach runs my life. Today, I tried on a size 24 dress. Breasts? Check. Hips? Check. Gut? Heck no. The evil was trying to pour out through my waist. I looked like a scene from Constantine.

So, I’m seeking some information about how to dress with a gut. I’m working to accept myself exactly as I am right now. That means I want to be my best today, whether I have a flat or fat stomach. I still have to wear clothes, and I’d like to look and feel good in whatever I wear.

Wish me luck,

Bossy

12-12-12? That’s like a dozen donuts to the third powder.

 

This will be short and sweet, like my encounters with Krispy Kreme donuts.

Listen, I eat too much. You know it. I know it.

Somebody stop me.

Today I ate two paltry meals at home. I ate breakfast, a milkshake, and a meal in my car. I also ate one meal at work, and one meal at a restaurant. I would like to say that I’m just really healthy and I’m trying to rev my metabolism with mini-meals. That would be a lie. I’m just enjoying too many meals each day.

Honestly, I’m not even enjoying them. I keep thinking about rats pressing the same button in order to get a past emotion. I keep pressing this button and nothing is working. When I eat certain foods, I don’t feel full. I just feel like I need to eat more of them.

At least I am done eating for the night.

Sweet dreams (Yum),

Bossy