Yeah. That's not funny anymore. FYI.

So, about two weeks ago, the lady who once upon a time saw me drinking water and said, “Icky Yucky” and then proceeded to fill up her own water bottle in front of me the very next day, asked me if I had my old Weight Watcher’s materials. And if so, would I consider selling them to her?

Quick back story: Once upon a time we had “Weight Watcher’s at Work”-which only worked for me because no one else fully grasped the “take the fucking cookie out of your mouth and walk more” concept but any way…She must’ve remembered I did this after finally looking in a mirror and finding the motivation to lose the extra person she’s been carrying around since she had kids 20 years ago.

ANYWAY…I tell her that yeah, I do and yeah, I will. Clearly my transition to the “booze and cigarettes diet” means I no longer need this shit so I might as well sell them to someone that will never achieve weight loss success because she simply doesn’t fucking get it.

Since this happened, she says the following thing to me DAILY, “Well I bought the books and they aren’t working. I’ve put them in the kitchen and I stare at them each day while I eat my French toast. Am I supposed to do something else with them?” Okay. This wasn’t even funny the first time. So, guess what? It’s not funny the tenth time either.

I’ve been handling this really well, which is completely out of character for me. Doing the polite laugh thing and all that bullshit. Today? Today she finally broke me.

She says her same shit and I just melted. I was like, “Look lady. Nothing is ever going to change if you don’t put down that damn French toast first. You think you can make something work without doing any work? How American of you. Good luck with that.”

Yeah. That was a real asshole thing to say. I know. But I couldn’t take it anymore. Plus the other day she told me I’d be a lot more "conventionally pretty" if I didn’t have “so many tattoos.” Therefore; FUCK HER.

In other news, shit by Dashboard Confessional and David Gray has suddenly become relevant to me and I fucking hate it. I am officially one of those douche bags who thinks every song in the world somehow applies to her life.

Great. What’s next? Maybe I’ll start wearing junior-sized clothes again and drinking Zimas.