You know when you go to a party, and you're having an amazing time and you think, "I'm having so much fun, nothing bad could possibly come of this!"? But then a few days later, you see photographic evidence, and you're horrified. Not because you were dancing like a lunatic with a drink in each hand--eyes staring off in two different directions because you couldn't focus anymore. No, you're horrified because the camera caught you at an angle where you could see your ass. And damn it if they didn't Photoshop the hell out of that picture, because THAT. Is. NOT. My. Ass!
Also not my ass
Oh, but it is (see what I did there?) And when, exactly, did I stop paying attention to said ass to the point where it needed it's own area code? I can only blame so much on the camera and its so-called extra ten pounds. I think modern cameras must add twenty, sometimes even thirty pounds. Ah, the digital age. I think we either need to go back to hand-painted portraits, or I need to give up the cupcakes. And let's be honest...that's a tough call. Especially with a dozen frosted cupcakes in the kitchen, at this very minute, whispering my name like the sirens of the deep.
There's just no escaping it. I'm going to have to go on an actual--gulp!--diet. That means no more cupcakes. No more milk shakes. No more chocolate. I may not survive this ordeal. But then again, I fully expect more pictures to be taken in the near future, and I just can't bear to see that wide angle view.
Did I mention my laptop caught fire yesterday? Fire! This sort of thing is stressful and cupcakes are magical stress relievers.
No. I mustn't fall back on cupcakes. I must remember my new mission. Project Ass Buster. This farm is now a cupcake-free zone. We've gone from burning laptops to burning calories. I can taste the satisfaction already. Or is that the frosting still on my lips?
Eh, baby steps, right?
Until the next time...I'll be eating salad.