I thought that having a big ol' juicy ass was in fashion. Else why all the talk on TV and in the magazines about JoLo's booty and song lyrics like:
I like big butts and I can not lie
You other brothers can't deny
That when a girl walks in with an itty bitty waist
And a round thing in your face
You get sprung
Wanna pull up front
Cuz you notice that butt was stuffed
Deep in the jeans she's wearing
I'm hooked and I can't stop staring
Oh, baby I wanna get with ya
And take your picture
My homeboys tried to warn me
But with that butt you got
Make Me so horny
On the Tyra Banks's show the other day they were talking about a recent survey of hundreds of men asking the question: "If you had to choose, which would you prefer; a woman with a small boobs and a big butt or one with big boobs and a small butt?" Over 90% of the men chose small boobs and a big butt!!! See, I'm in fashion, except I've got boobs, brains and a butt. The best of all worlds, if only I could get Dr. Dupper to agree.
I've been trying to eat a little healthier cause Dr. Dupper is scaring me to death with all her talk of BMIs, diabetes and heart attacks. So I'm brown-bagging lunch to work and doing fairly well except that every once in a while I get a craving. The thought of a prime piece of rare steak, something sweet, even just a couple of French-fries will hit and my mouth starts to water. Once I get that taste in my mouth nothing else will do. I figure it's better to indulge in a little bit of sinfully good food instead of eating 3000 calories worth of salad trying to be good.
But the guys here at work are bird-dogging me! It's become a case of "Do what I say, not what I do". I made the mistake of letting them know that I'm trying to cut back, so if I nibble on a cookie the next thing I know I've got an overweight, beer-gutted redneck who has to tie his shoes before he zips his pants, holding a honey bun in one hand and a 20 ounce Pepsi in the other breathing down my neck grunting about "You're not supposed to eat that". Even if I'm being good, they come by and lean over my plate until I'm worried about them shedding nose hairs on my food while asking "What the hell is that?"
I tell you, it's almost enough to make me lose my appetite (actually this would probably be a good thing guaranteed to make me lose weight, but I've got a cast iron stomach).
Naw, the guys are just trying to be supportive but it's still frustrating as hell! I want me a double cheeseburger and a large fry. Prime rib with a baked potato loaded with butter and sour cream. I sit here poking at my salad while my stomach growls because the smell of cooking bacon and eggs in the break room is wandering down the hall and right into the craving area of my brain.
OK, I'm gonna quit whining now, the more I talk about food the hungrier I get. How many calories if I just chew on my pencil?