Souffle Belly

I have nothing new to say but I sooo need to whine. It's about that time again anyway.

I feel fat. I feel so fat and bloated it's gross. My pants are tight and giving me a tummyache and I've got the muffin bulge going on above them, which I abhor, especially when I must bear witness to girls everywhere who think that look is fashionable. Of course I'm also wearing a snug top today which would accentuate the souffle effect and everytime I look down it's quite the bloody train wreck and rubberneckers are perched everywhere waiting for me to exhale.

I'm vain, I can admit that. I'm friggin' proud of my tight, washboard stomach. It's one my best features that most people don't see but I don't care coz I get to see it a lot. Whenever I want. Wherever I choose. I'm shallow like that. Bite me.

Right now there's a load of laundry sitting on top of my gut and I want to take off these damn pants and let loose. If I could I'd sit here in my underwear for the rest of the day but I don't want to be unceremoniously escorted out and asked to never return. I want to be like the unfashionable women who show up to work everyday dressed in their sloppy trackpants with the comfy elastic waistbands or drawstrings. Oh heavens!

Wonder if they'll let me wear my jammies here? I would very much like that. I shall spend the rest of my workday brainstorming just how to make it work. That'll require drafts, proposals, rewrites and a snappy presentation in both Powerpoint and professionally bound folders. I bet if I get a laser pointer that'll just knock 'em right out of their chairs so they'll enact with immediate effect "jammie days" or "undies only days" with the stipulation that they be clean, attractive and un-holey. I might've just had a mini orgasm thinking about the comfort...