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The Hunger Calls


It is a time for new resolutions. Paying off debt, losing weight, being kinder- that sort of thing. Lucky for me, I’ve come to realize that New Year’s Resolutions are bullshit, so I don’t have to do any of those things previously mentioned. HA

Sadly, my credit cards are pretty much maxed out, so I do  desire to pay off my debt. Buuuut, I also desire to go to Rocklahoma, and hang out with all of my favorite bands. I also desire to buy (what many people would consider) unnecessary decorative items for my home. So I don’t know if I’m going to pay off debt this year or not, ok?

I am also of the age where my weight doesn’t much bother me anymore; though I do, at times, want to be an uber-hot mama that people gawk at. Fortunately, DDD boobs and a penchant for brightly-colored duds can accomplish pretty much the same thing.

However, my best friend is getting married in the end of February, and asked me last year to be one of her bridesmaids. Note, I said she asked me last year. Which means I had over 365 in which to shed the 65 or so pounds that would inhibit me from being one of the sexiest bridesmaids that ever lived. (Hey, just dream with me here.)

As if being on the chubby side wasn’t enough,  her other bridesmaids could fit into a pair of my pants all at once. Dammit.

Now my bestie has always been quick to argue when I’ve been down on myself, so my fears of looking like a heifer in wedding pictures have naught to do with her. In fact, my girl even let us pick our own dresses- to let us show off our own personal style and not have us despise her for picking something we all look like shit it.

No, my insecurities are all of my own making.

So like any normal person, of course I took that year I had to slim down and buff up.

BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA. Just kidding.

Knowing myself as I know myself, I bought my dress (from China) in the size that I was at the time I bought it. Last year. And now, less than two months away from the wedding, I’m exactly (or maybe a tad bit more) the weight I was then.

It had been over nine months since I tried my dress on initially when I took it to the alterations lady a few weeks ago to get the tail bustled. After much sucking in and pulling back, it zipped, but just. After she measured for straps to hold up the busooms, I was thinking that, HEY! I look pretty good! (Yeah, ok, so I had to have her take my socks off because it was too tight to bend down. Shut up.)

Sadly, the next day, my neck and shoulders were completely jacked up from sucking in and bunching up. So, instead of being the super-sensuous bridesmaid I imagined in my head, I’ve settled for being able to sit during dinner and still being able to breathe, and maybe avoiding my armpit fat from photobombing the wedding party.

The thing I’ve discovered, though, is that the will power that once made me only eat three saltine crackers and a grape each day back in ninth grade has gone on permanent vacation. The simple fact that I’m trying (ok, not really) to lose weight makes me completely ravenous, to the point that I want to eat every single order of boneless wings that I serve to a table. (GAAWWWWWD, boneless wings sound amazing right now….)

I’ve told myself for the month of January, I will focus on eating less, and worry about shaping up in February. Unfortunately, since my daily diet rivals that of an African elephant, I’ve got quite a bit of cutting down to do.

To help keep my stomach from crying aloud with his own voice, (which I imagine sounds very like Boris Karloff) I’ve taken to drinking copious amounts of coffee mixed with way too many pink packets. Coffee is supposed to speed up your metabolism, they say. What they don’t say, is that coffee makes you pee like you’ve been drinking booze for seven days straight. And it probably doesn’t help that the sleep I’m supposed to be getting to help me trim down is interrupted by caffeine.

I just…. I just want to be skinny like I was when I thought I was fat.

(On the plus side, whenever I’ve shown a picture of me in my dress to anyone, their first reaction has always been, “Geez, your boobs look huge!” )

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Advice For Graduates


is the time when seniors everywhere are growing up and moving on with their lives. Since I am old(er), I feel it is only fair that I give them some helpful advice for their journey. I heard a soldier on the radio give a commencement speech to a senior class, using only three words- “Make your bed.” I think there is something to this, so here we go. (I may take a few liberties by combining words to stay under the three word maximum.)

1. Eat the cake.

As you go through life, some of you may worry more than others about keeping your young and lithe figures. Others may not. Whatever the case, you need to realize that there is nothing wrong with indulging in sweets and other edible goodness, for, as George Bernard Shaw once said- “The most sincere form of love is love for food.” So eat the cake when you get the chance.

2. Do whatcha want.

Three words. If you didn’t understand, that was do what makes you happy. Don’t go to college to become a lawyer if that is not what your passion is, no matter how much your parents pay you. You will be happier in the end.

3. Do stuffu hate.

Along with doing whatever you want, at times, friends, Romans, and/or countrymen may ask you to accompany them in actions that interest you not at all. (For example, stock car races.) If they ask you, just say yes, because they could have asked someone else. And you may just run into a super hot girl who gives amazing blow jobs, or experience the deep-fried goodness of racetrack cheese curds. Whatever the case, you will not regret the things you do.

4. Read more books.

HA! I didn’t have to fudge that one! Which makes it quite clear that it is very sound advice. The more you read, the more you know. Which may very well help you out if you take my afore mentioned advice and follow your friend to a hostel somewhere in Serbia.

5. Get a dog.

Maybe not right now, but someday. You will never regret having a companion who is always happy to see you, and who will never yell at you for leaving the toilet seat up.

6. See the world.

I must admit here that I’ve yet much world to see, but after I make millions on my book, the world shall be my first stop. Experience the magic of earth.

7. Do the dishes.

Because they will stink if you don’t.

And finally- the best for last.

8. Listen to music.

As much as you possibly can. Every kind that you can. Music is beauty in audio.

9. Love like crazy.

Fall in love with as many things as you can. That doesn’t mean, be a slut; it means open your eyes, and your heart, and never let go of that feeling you get when you see something beautiful for the first time.  Love. Love like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do.

 

 

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A Letter to A Ten- Year Old Me


Dear ten-year old version of Sparklebumps,

I wanted to wrote this letter to you because I figured it might be easier to get through some of the shit that’s coming if you have some kind of idea…

I want to let you know that even though you are a complete chub right now, when you’re about 15, you’re going to be anorexic for awhile. Your goal weight is going to be 88 lbs. but the lowest you’re going to get is 95  lbs. Don’t worry, you don’t get sent to a hospital or anything, even though Mom threatens you with that a few times just to try to get you to eat. When those two girls laugh at you because you’re 130 lbs. right now, just brush it off. (I know you won’t though.)  So you know, you pretty much only eat candy for all of 1996. You’ll stay pretty skinny until you’re 23 or so, and then you’ll realize that there comes a moment of complete joy from eating an entire large pizza by yourself. You don’t turn into a complete fat-ass, but you’ll end up with a little bit of extra baggage. The boys don’t seem to mind…

That reminds me. You’re done growing up. You might be the tallest person in your class right now, but get used to this height, because we don’t get any taller. 5’3″ is it, baby! It sometimes makes it hard to reach things on top shelves, but there are step stools and tall men to help you with that, and you’ll get pretty used to wearing tall heels.

You’ll get rid of the big plastic glasses too. Mom and Dad will let you get contacts in a couple of years, but for now, you’re just going to have to look like a dork. Don’t worry,  there aren’t too many pictures of you at age 10.

I know your looks really bother you right now, and I’m sorry to say that your worries about your looks don’t go away. Mirrors are still our enemy, even when we’re 30. But  I am happy to report that you don’t stay an ugly duckling. You don’t exactly turn into a swan- maybe something more like a Canadian goose.

I’m not really sure why you’re so into dressing like a boy, because as you get older, the complete opposite is true. Relish the boy sneakers and baggy t-shirts while you can, because pretty soon, you never wear anything that doesn’t have a heel.

Keep playing piano, even though it’s a pain in the ass now. It ends up being a weird talent that comes in handy, and a good conversation starter for when you finally meet our Rockstar.

You will not automatically go to hell if you give away your virginity, despite how much time Dad tries to convince you otherwise. I just wanted to clear that up right now. I also wanted to say that you will not be ruined when you DO give it up, and someone will still want you. Dad kinda freaks out on you a little bit (that’s an understatement) when he finds out you’re not a virgin anymore- I believe his exact wording is, “You’re completely ruined now and no man is EVER going to want you now!” I give you props if you tell him to go fuck himself when he says that.

About Dad- things don’t really get better with him. He just gets older and more crotchety. But at least he moves to New Mexico, so you don’t have to see him much.

I will tell you- boys aren’t everything, but they certainly make life more interesting. And you eventually develop histrionic personality disorder, so you love the attention you get from them. I gotta tell you, though, around 28 and 29, life gets pretty hairy for a bit from all the guys that are hanging around and trying to convince you to do them. I’m not really sure what that’s all about. Just go with the flow…

That reminds me- you’ll have at least one failed marriage. But it’s not all bad. He just forgets for awhile how much he loves you, and he doesn’t remember until it’s too late. You stay friends though, and he will still send you texts saying how much fun you were. Oh, and your pink wedding dress is AWESOME.

I suppose I should mention, too- that boy you like right now- you don’t end up with him. You really did fall in love at first sight with him, and when you’re 16 it gets really tough for awhile because you guys end up as great friends and you try to set him up with one of your girls. For the record- he doesn’t end up with her either. He DOES keep all the notes and letters you send him, though, at least for awhile. He ends up with a blonde and has a beautiful family with two adorable boys who look exactly like him. Damn that blonde!

I must warn you- you never get over your book obssession. It gets pretty bad.

I’m not sure if we’ll make it out of Minnesota, because I’m still working on that, but you end up not minding it so much after you meet our Rockstar.

About him- he just needs some lovin’. So don’t get too upset when he calls you a stupid cunt that one time in the beginning, because he’s just jaded at that point. All you have to do is state that if he says that once more, you will punch him in the nose and he will never see you again. Trust me. He doesn’t say it again. He ends up being a really good guy, and the sex is AMAZING, but you don’t have to know about that yet.

You are meant to be a writer. Don’t ever forget that. Even if you have to be a waitress and a job coach and a book bitch and a JC Penney associate and a pizza slut first.

I think that’s about all you need to know now, but just remember- Love is the thing; you won’t ever regret giving someone a hug; God likes to fuck with you, but He’s still a Cool Dude; the more you sing badly, the better you get; and stay away from lactose products. XOXO

Love,

An older but not necessarily- wiser You.

P.S. Yes, the boobs get bigger. Alarmingly so.

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