So this is what 150 lbs looks like.  Or something close to that number.

Is it me?  Or are you saying bull fucking shit too?

Are you thinking….But Heather, surely you have several 5 lb golden nuggets up your ass to weigh almost 150 pounds!

Oh, that I did.

(I see this picture and think I must have been borderline anorexic when I weighed 122 lbs if this is what I look like at almost 150. I’m not sure about the anorexia but I’m pretty sure I didn’t have boobs then.)

Or maybe I’m totally flattering myself and you’re saying….Oh yeah, that’s definitely 150 lbs, if not more. You are Queen of Shake Shake because of the Jiggly McJiggleFlab, not because of your love of martinis.  In fact, you should stop drinking martinis because those drinks in your pretty new banners are causing your jiggly jugglegut.

(And that? Would be the point in which you are dead to me. DEAD! But not before you hit the refresh button several times and notice my rotating headers.  Then you are DEAD to me.)

I don’t feel like I weigh almost 150 lbs, but according to our recent adoption of the Evil Seed of Satan, which is also known as Wii Fit, I damn sure do.

Of course, the Evil Seed of Satan loves to screw around with me. The first day, it said I weighed 138 pounds.  (Oh yes, I loooove the wonderful, precious Angel of Fitness!)  The next day, it said I weighed 148.  And that’s when it went from the Angel of Fitness to the Agent of Darkness. But the next day? I weighed 145.  And the Evil Seed is back and forth, telling me I’m this close to 145 and then telling me I am this close to 150.

And get this.  Sometimes when I step on the Wii Fit board, it literally says, “Eww.”

No lie.  What kind of Japanese translation shit is that?

I think this evil monster of Lucifer wants me to be anorexic again.  Or morbidly obese.  In fact, I’m beginning to suspect Wii Fit is a Japanese conspiracy to invade our country.

(Not that I have a semi-schizophrenic thing with conspiracy theories)

First off, the Japanese keep the supply of Wiis and Wii Fits low because they know we Americans lust over things they can’t have.   For example, I cried tears of joy when we ACTUALLY FOUND A WII FIT FOR CHRISTMAS!  And I almost wet my pants when I found a second one for Magnum PI, but he wet his instead he was SO DAMN HAPPY I FOUND ONE FOR HIM.

(But do you think he told me how pretty I looked that day?  No. Probably because I weigh almost ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY FUCKING POUNDS!)

Once you actually acquire the Wii Fit, Japanese Plan A and Plan B kick in.

Plan A is that half of the country become anorexic because of the “Eww” when you step on the board, even if you are down five pounds.  No matter your weight goals, you will always get an “Eww” and you will internalize this until you starve yourself and TADA! Half of the country doesn’t have the muscle mass to put up a fight against enemy invasion.

Plan B is that the other half of the country becomes morbidly obese because of the up five pounds, down five pounds. IN ONE DAMN DAY. After a while you figure, what the fuck’s the use and just give up.  So now the other half of the country is morbidly obese and the Japanese won’t need tanks and firearms to round us up into camps.  They’ll need cranes and forklifts to raise us from our bed before moving us into camps.

What did this blog start off about?

Oh. Me weighing 145 pounds.  Or 149.98 lbs. Whichever.

Honestly, I think I may have a mental problem (shocker) because I don’t know at what weight I think I could call myself skinny and believe it.  See these old pictures here?

I thought I was fat…

…because I didn’t have the figure of a 14 year old boy.

(but obviously I did have poor tastes in tankinis)

And this one? Fat again!

..my body doesn’t look like a 14 year old boy.

Look! Is that a *gasp* low-rise jeans induced fat roll?  Oh my god, the fatness!

14-year-old boys don’t have low-rise jean induced fat rolls or muffin tops and neither should I.

I don’t know where I get this idea that adult women should have figures similar to that of 14-year old boys.

Except maybe Glamour magazine covers.  And Desperate Housewives.

That might have something to do with it.

I know it’s just a number, but then, IT’S A NUMBER.  I should judge myself on how I look and feel, not by the scale.  But, hahahaha, what the fuck ever. Somewhere there’s a 14-year-old boy with my body. How do I know this?  Cosmo magazine told me so.

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