Dunkin' the Donuts

I had three donuts today. That means I’ll be on the treadmill for a good 1.2 hours this afternoon, sweating out my hair and my eyebrows, and I’m still tingling from yesterday’s Brazilian wax, but as requested, I am blogging. Angel has requested that I open up more, well I figured that you can’t get more open than a Brazilian wax right? But back to the gooey glazed donuts - I think its stress eating. I’m sure of it. Why do people bring them into the office and leave them sitting out on the credenza for us to consume? There is obviously some skinny bitch out there in the world preying on innocent women who are always fighting the battle of the bulge. Thank God, Taylor hasn’t brought up anymore of his incessant baby talk, not that I’m opposed to it, it’s just that I see those post-preggers women on the treadmill, huffing and puffing in their attempts to whittle the baby fat away. I refuse to be that woman, and I’m usually thinking that as I’m increasing the speed and incline on my own machine. Besides, with Taylor’s current unemployment status, kids could NOT be anymore NOT on the menu!




But those donuts were…I just feel like those donuts represent every woman’s increasingly urgent challenge; competing with the 20-somethings currently on the upswing; skinny, taut abs, size zero dresses, long flowing hair, and a carefree smile. As a former model, yes, I modeled in my former glory days, before and during college, until I got realistic about my life and my goals. My representative at the agency provided the ill-timed wake-up call --- “you may want to start looking into more catalogue work…you know for your size.” What? No more runway work? I mean it was true, I am naturally tall, and true, I’d gained here or there with the stress of college, and whatnot, but I couldn’t be that much off the meter. I mean I wasn’t tipping the scales. And yes, mother, and Aunt Deb are both fully functional Lane Bryant card members, but I wasn’t…or at least I was determined to never BE.



Taylor never seemed to mind any of my weight fluctuations, minute as they were…are. I refuse to see myself as anything other than fab (yes, I am self-talking right now). Besides, I have everything I could ever want in life, I mean true, I’m not gracing the covers of any magazines, nor am I strutting down anyone’s catwalks anymore, but I have a solid life, I work hard. I am everywoman as they say (only a hint of sarcasm here). I have a great job, I work very hard to stay under a size 8, I have a great husband, a magnificent home, and a burgeoning career as an author (although I haven’t had much time to write this week, sigh). Despite the trials, I’d say that I’m doing pretty fantastic. But those donuts…I’ve got to get rid of those donuts and have the person who so callously delivers them disemboweled and dismembered.



See, today, I shared my innermost thoughts and feelings. Lovely. Now, back to work I go.



- Alex