I spent a couple of hours sorting through my iPhoto, preparing to import the ginormous file into my new Precious. There are three years worth of photos in my old computer, and as I was sorting through them, I began to notice a pattern.

We’ll call this pattern pre-blogging Heather vs. blogging Heather.

Pre-blogging Heather? She was skinny.

October 2005 with the cutest Obi Wan Kenobi ever.

She stayed skinny with little effort. (bitch) Her face was slim and oval with only PMS puffiness once a month. There was little to no muffin top. (what a bitch) In fact, she had to buy 3 pairs of the same jeans because after they had been worn once, they were too stretched to be re-worn until they were washed and dried again. (god, such a bitch)

Blogging Heather? Her face has rounded out in perpetual PMS puffiness.

January 2008 toasting invisible Megan

While this may help plump out a few laugh lines, it doesn’t help anything else, including her sex appeal. This blogging Heather has also experienced a first in her life and that would be her inner thighs rubbing together when she wears a swimsuit.

Pre-blogging Heather never ever had rubbing thighs. Never. Ever. Hairy thighs maybe, but they didn’t rub together, dammit.

And those jeans I had to buy 3 pairs of? There is only one pair I can squeeze into without an offensively large muffin top, and that’s on a good day after I’ve had either a laxative or intestinal virus.

I swear, I hate jeans now, even with the 2% lycra. I groan when I realize that one pair is fresh out of the dryer and hasn’t been previously worn to stretch it out because I know. I know I’ll be forced to repeatedly squat in my dressing room to stretch those fuckers out. It will be sometime around 11 am before they feel comfortable and a hour later, I’ll eat lunch the and fuckers are tight all over again.

I’ve gained 10 lbs since I started blogging. Ten pounds doesn’t sound like a whole lot (and it isn’t in the grand scheme of things), but it’s enough to take my face from oval to round, and cause me to teeter around double digit clothing for the first time in my life. I don’t like this perpetual PMS puff and I damn sure don’t like buying size 10 clothes. I refuse to go there.

I also refuse to have rubbing thighs and pilate the hell out of those Jiggly McJigglejunks every other day. Soon I will put Wally in a leg lock he can’t get out of, just like when we dated.

When I see pictures of myself now, I tell myself all sorts of irrational justifications for the change in my face….

It’s the hair, not the weight. Didn’t you know long, curly hair adds 10 lbs to your face? Duh!

…and why my jeans don’t fit…

And all those pilate exercises for your ass? It’s rounding your ass out in a good way. Didn’t you know a rounder ass makes you increase a pants size? It’s so true.

Those scales you hide in the closet because the number never goes down? They are possessed by the devil and if you pretend the scales aren’t there, the number will magically go down!

Nothing has really changed in my life. I thought for a moment it’s my new found baking skills, but no. I’ve always had awesome confection skills. Lately I’ve increased my repertoire, but not the frequency, so that’s not it.

(The first person who mentions some kind of bullshit about getting older and slower metabolisms, thus insinuating I am getting older? I will trap you in a leg lock where you will die a slow, nonsexual, painful death from loss of circulation.)

I’m exercising more. Lots more. I exercise an hour a day. Don’t movie stars exercise that much? So why the hell doesn’t my body look like theirs?

I’m drinking less. Way less.

(Did the world just fall off its axis because of that last statement? Can I actually admit that on my blog and still call myself the Queen of Shake Shake?)

That leaves blogging – a hobby that will have you sitting on your ass for hours at a time. If you’re not writing and editing a post, your reading other blogs and twittering. Your reading blogs on how to improve your blog/writing, participating in carnivals and giveaways, and building your community, and blah bloggity blah – you’ve gained 10 pounds.

Exactly how am I suppose to build a community and stay slim at the same time?

(cue Mission Impossible music)

Maybe I’m going about this whole community building thing the wrong way because, damn, that’s a lot of time sitting on le derriére . (In Southern French, that sounds like ‘dairy air’ with a strong emphasis on the ‘air’.)

How do you say “blogging makes you fat” in French?

Anyone?

(I’ll give you bonus cool points if you can give the Southern French translation.)

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 31st, 2008 at 3:00 am and is filed under All About Me. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.