Monday, January 26, 2004

Dayyyy-mn. I never realised how fat my lips are especially through the crappy lens of a webcam. They're so grossly obese. Maybe it'll react well to the Atkins Diet. The Zone perhaps? Will my lips feel inadequate around the bevy of beauties at the local women's gym, their pert little butts framed by a cotton thong? How well will my lips fare in a cycling class, amongst Swedish bombshells who like to overdo it with the Neutrogena self-tanner? I hope she doesn't get discouraged, as well-intentioned strangers usher her to the juice bar, telling her (while spiking her wheatgrass and papaya cocktail), "Now, now. You're not all that bad. After a few drinks, everyone starts to look better (or worse, hopefully in your case)."

Oh, the horrors of realpolitiks at the gym. Why did I send my lips away? She packs up her sports bra, not yet permeated with the scent of a workout, but thorougly saturated with tears, and heads for the nearest Cinnabons. Extra icing please!

*sniffle* That's ... that's my girl.

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