Maybe it's because I've been home sick from work for two days. Maybe it's because I've gotten through all three seasons of Kids in the Hall that I own on DVD, and am now starting over at the beginning ("ballet and snacks! my two passions!"). Maybe it's because I've accomplished little but laundry and fighting off cold germs in the last three days. But I've had just about enough of diet advertisements lining the websites I'm looking at.
First let's address the one I hate the most: the stupid fucking "pink patch" that will allow you to lose five pounds in two weeks. O RLY?! Five pounds in two weeks? Chances are, if you're about to glue this thing to your torso, you don't have any real need to lose weight anyway. Where do you plan to lose it from? Your eyelids? Your ankles? Your pinky toes? Get bent. If you're bellyaching about how "if only you could lose five pounds in two weeks," you're a whiny bitch who's probably too skinny anyway. Do us all a favor and eat a sandwich. Thank you.
Second, the bowl of acai mud. I admit, I would like to taste what acai is like, just to see if it holds any of the charms of other berries I enjoy, such as...most berries, but particularly cranberries and strawberries. I enjoy most things that boast antioxidants, such as green tea, cranberries, coffee, red wine and so on, and don't particularly care if they have magical powers for making people skinny. (Which they do not.) I do have to tell you, however, that a heaping helping of what appears to be, to quote Amanda, "huckleberry diarrhea" is not going to make me run out and purchase some acai sorbet, even if I could find some somewhere.
If this whole world was more about who people actually are and the good care that they take of their bodies regardless of weight, instead of magical fucking potions to counteract McDonalds and sitting on our asses, we'd all be a lot better off.
And after a couple more doses of NyQuil or DayQuil, I promise to return to being lightheartedly cynical, instead of a railing, coughing bitch. Merci.
