Self-Deprecating Day

Okay...so I'm not happy today. I'm tired. I'm crabby. I'm fat.

No, really. Today Jerry dropped off pics he took last week so we could use them for the DVD and yearbook Jasper and I are putting together.

The sucky thing is seeing me on film. Maybe it's the way my screen makes pictures look...I could blame it on that (since my laptop is more wide than tall) but still...I am fat. Well, at least I look fat. Sorry to any men reading this but I'm going to lay it all out there right now. Having big breasts sucks. T-shirts bulge out so you either look pregnant (if you don't tuck the shirt in) or you look like you're super fat if you do.

My hips are are huge, my thighs ginormous. One of my favorite movies is "Beautiful Girls" from 1996 where Rosie O'Donnell has this monologue:

Beautiful Girls (1996)
Gina: I'm finished speaking to both of you okay? You're both fucking insane. You want to know what your problem is? MTV, Playboy, and Madison fucking Avenue. Yes. Let me explain something to you, ok? Girls with big tits have big asses. Girls with little tits have little asses. That's the way it goes. God doesn't fuck around; he's a fair guy. He gave the fatties big, beautiful tits and the skinnies little tiny niddlers. It's not my rule. If you don't like it, call him. Hey Mitch. Thank you.
[Looking at a porn magazine]

Gina: Oh, guys, look what we have here. Look at this, your favorite. Oh, you like that?

Tommy: I could go along with that.

Gina: Yeah, that's nice right? Well, it doesn't exist ok. Look at the hair. The hair is long, it's flowing, it's like a river. Well, it's a fucking weave ok? And the tits, please! I could hang my overcoat on them. Tits by design were invented to be suckled by babies. Yes, they're purely functional. These are silicon city. And look, my favorite, the shaved pubis. Pubic hair being too unruly and all. Very key. This is a mockery, this is a sham, this is bullshit. Implants, collagen, plastic, capped teeth, the fat sucked out, the hair extended, the nose fixed, the bush shaved... These are not real women, all right? They're beauty freaks. And they make all us normal women with our wrinkles, our puckered boobs, hi bob, and our cellulite feel somehow inadequate. Well I don't buy it, all right? But you fucking mooks, if you think that if there's a chance in hell that you'll end up with one of these women, you don't give us real women anything approaching a commitment. It's pathetic. I don't know what you think you're going to do. You're going to end up eighty-years old, drooling in some nursing home, then you're going to decide, it's time to settle down, get married, have kids? What, are you going to find a cheerleader? Charge it Mitch.

Tommy: I think you're over simplifying.

Gina: Oh eat me. Look at Paul. With his models on the wall, his dog named Elle McPherson. He's insane. He's obsessed. You're all obsessed. If you had an once of self-esteem, of self-worth, of self-confidence, you would realize that as trite as it may sound, beauty is truly skin-deep. And you know what, if you ever did hook one of those girls, I guarantee you'd be sick of her.

Tommy: Yeah, I suppose I'd get sick of her after about, what, twenty or thirty years?

Gina: Get over yourself. Thank you Mitch. Say hello to Gertrude.

Tommy: What?

Gina: No mater how perfect the nipple, how supple the thigh, unless there is some other shit going on in the relationship, besides the physical, it's going to get old, ok? And you guys, as a gender, have got to get a grip. Otherwise, the future of the human race is in jeopardy.

Willie Conway: What was that?

Tommy: I don't know, but a great ass.

Willie Conway: Nice tits. Come on let's go.

If only the guys actually said that after a monologue like that. Maybe I wouldn't feel so crappy today.

Maybe.