Okay, enough of that! On to today's special post.
I'm feeling especially cantankerous this afternoon. What I'd really like to do is rant about rude people in lines and how tired I am of being squashed between two people on the sidewalk; however, I feel that that would leave you somewhat dissatisfied, if not completely let down. Like I deceived you with the sweet, sweet promise of a new blog post only to have you discover an overwritten Facebook post in its place. I might as well just attach a picture of what I ate for lunch (it was delicious) and my cat doing "duck face". Have no fear! I found someone worthy of my blog. And without too much effort at that.
Today's special guest is a lovely woman from one of my favorite dating forums who posted this charming note today:
BBWs are REAL women
Dear Non-Imaginary Woman From an Undisclosed Location:
Congratulations! I am incredibly impressed with your knowledge of your existence. So many people battle with this thought process in their lives and you are SO sure of your "realness" (for lack of a better term) that you can repeat it, with absolute certainty, multiple times. As for me, personally, I often find myself questioning the reality of the situations I find myself in. Are we really here? Are we just in a dream that we'll wake up from when we "die" or perhaps go into another dream, and so on and so forth. How can I be sure that this is real? And then there's the all-important question: What is "real"? I was pondering on this thought this morning when I nosed around on this (unnamed) dating forum and found your post. It was like a heavenly light, shining down from the grey skies, showing me the answer to the question that has been plaguing me all my life. All I needed to do was look through the thousands of posts of women taking downward-angled, camera-phone photos of themselves after an unfortunate spray-tan incident to find this, rather eloquent, definition of reality.
"BBWs are REAL women". Am I not real? Does my lack of natural curves make my vagina somehow a fictitious part of my anatomy? Did I make the whole thing up? I'm so confused. (I'm not even going to start wondering where my last sexual partner put his penis if my girlie bits aren't actually there...). Not only that, but if I had an imaginary vagina I would imagine it to be a hell of a lot prettier! Also, if I'm reading your definition correctly, you cannot be real if you are hot, gorgeous, flat-stomached, are nuliparous, or don't have a history. Well, at least I have one claim to the elusive realness! I hate to break it to you, but I don't know anyone who doesn't have a history. Even a dull one. It's not like we just burst into the world as fully-formed, gorgeous, childless, adult women with flat stomachs, fabulous hair, and the curves of a 2x4 (since apparently you can only have curves if you're real).
I don't think you're quite seeing what you wrote, so I'm going to offer you how your ad might come across to some people. I am SURE this isn't what you meant, since you wouldn't have a reason to be flat-out insulting to a large group of (fictitious) women who never said anything bad to, or about, you. Would you?
That being said, I'm going to take my fake tits and fluffed hair out of here. I might go to the gym on my way to the salad bar where I will order a crouton and one slice of lettuce that I will just throw up later anyway.
All the best,
Your pissed off future cat lady
P.S. Could you please send me some of your "real food" recipes? I'd love to know what it tastes like.