Let me tell you something. When the alarm goes off in the morning, and by "alarm" I lately mean Ned, who wakes up earlier than me to eat healthy things and so on, but when I WAKE UP, let's just say, via Ned or a screeching screaming Richard Simmons alarm, the first thing I do is think about how much I hate to get up.
Tallulah does the same thing. I'll say to her, "We have to get up, Tallulah," and I swear she always moans pitifully and burrows her head under the covers, as if her days are so fraught with the stress of 12 kids and a dead-end job.
My point is, since I got on this
DING-DANG
diet, after my initial, "I hate getting up" feeling, I realize, "Oh my god, I can eat." You have no idea how happy it makes me to get up and eat. It's all I can do to wait for my low-fat, extra-thin slices of everything bagel to toast and cover them with fat-free cream cheese and 47 grape tomatoes.
Now I've done that and I have to wait till I can eat another thing. My whole day is in pursuit of when I can eat again, and I hate to draw another parallel to Tallulah but there it is.
So that's THAT story. I weigh in again tomorrow and I don't hold out a lot of hope that I've lost anything, given that sausage cheese dip extravaganza I had at Marty Martin's Oscar party on Sunday. And the cat poop I foraged for, because am Tallulah. But I will keep you abreast.
Speaking of my breasts, tonight I go train again to teach people how to read, which has nothing to do with my breasts except they'll be there. I asked Ned if he could feed my dogs again after he gets out of work, and he said he'd be glad to, and that he'd even throw in a feeding of the cats, too, because he's all heart, but then he told me
are you ready?
ARE YOU?
he told me, "You know there's gonna be weather tonight, right?"
You have got to be fucking kidding me. HOW CAN WE BE HAVING GODDAMN WEATHER AGAIN????
"Well, it's not my fault," said Ned, after I pulled every strand of my hair out. "Maybe you should speak to the Snow Miser." The Snow Miser. Whatever with Ned.
Still! GODDAMMIT! So maybe they'll cancel my training tonight, who knows? People do that here, when there's weather.
In the meantime, I will continue to wish it was time to eat again. And remember, tomorrow is Freaky Friday, or Get Freaky with June, or June Gets Jiggy Wid It, or whatever. I have many stories that you've sent me and I must cull one.
I'll catch you later. Oh, but if I actually lose weight on this damn diet and don't freeze to death like Jack Nicholson at the end of The Shining (you've had 35 years to see it. It's not my fault, at this point, if you don't know how it ends), IF I LIVE AND GET THIN, what sort of wardrobe changes should I make? Do you ever look at photos of me and think, "June should try one of those 1920s bathing suits, with the long short pants" or "June should really wear more leiderhosen."
Any suggestions for the future thin me? Let me know. I'll talk to you after the weather.
Goddammit.
P.S. At 2:30 today I have my fierce Ping-Pong competition with my coworker, Alex #24844838. I WILL BREAK HER.
