NoSalesTax

Two Elon alumni (2002) have pooled their talents to bring excitement and joy to your day. One is a classy woman who combines her Italian and feminine powers to influence men of all shapes and sizes. The other is a tall blond man who relies on wit and boyish good looks to impress women, especially when they're drunk. Join them in their epic pursuit of the phenomenon known as adulthood. NoSalesTax side effects may include addiction and abrupt laughter as colleagues look on in confused jealousy.

Thursday, July 07, 2005

Don't mess with my babies...It'll only get you karate-chopped.

When friends tell stories about their dogs, I usually chime in with stories about my fish. Then I get dirty looks. People don’t think the two are comparable.
To those people I say, up yours. Fish and pups have a lot in common. They both:
-like water
-die
- poop a lot
-sometimes the poop is one place, sometimes the poop gets everywhere
-need to be fed
-can’t be left alone for the weekend
-bite
-play
-have names.
Can fish be contained in a tank? Yes. Can dogs? Not unless they are little frou frou, Jessica Simpson dogs, in which case they really aren’t dogs at all, but rather rats. If I had a big house with a yard and a fence might I have a dog? Yes. Should you think I’m silly for loving my fish and keeping them as pets? No. So anyone that wants to pick on me, I say, screw you. Leave me and my fish alone. You are probably the same people that will have children before any of your friends, and then act like everyone else is silly for not having kids. Like, it will define your existence and make everyone less significant and non-contributing members of society. You make me sick! (written with look of disdain on my face)

Wednesday, July 06, 2005

What is the price to be thin?

There is a saying I hear every now and then: “Nothing tastes as good as thin feels.” I think about this every time I want pizza or cheetos or fries with bacon and ranch. I also think about the pictures from my senior year in college, and how I thought I was so unattractive and fat. How I actually felt lucky to be with a good looking guy- nevermind the fact that he was scum bag.
But sometimes it’s not enough and I pig out anyway. Sometimes food tastes better than empty, you know what I mean? Sometimes eating, no matter what it is, as long as it’s with friends, feels really good.
Sometimes eating alone feels good, too. Sometimes watching TV with a grilled cheese or a bag of baked Doritos feels so satisfying. Sometimes sitting at my desk at lunch hour and devouring a sandwich while I read someone else’s blog makes me very, very happy.
So is it the actual food, the euphoria, the comfort that I crave? And why do I struggle with letting myself enjoy it?
When I meet people who are naturally skinny and can eat whatever they want, I hate them…mostly because I would give anything to be them. To be really thin, just once. To be so thin I could slip on a wedding dress and have someone notice how delicate I was. To look in me in all white like white was made for me. I picture this skinny girl walking down an aisle in just over a year and I picture everyone gawking at shoulder blades and tiny arms and knowing that underneath all that fabric and slip, there are incredible, thin, toned legs.
Is the image enough to make me do it? Only once in my life has it been. After college and a miserable breakup I worked long days, doing display at a department store by day and waiting tables by night. I was so bitter, working so many hours, hauling so much ass that food gave me no satisfaction at all. I didn’t have the time or energy to eat. The only thing that did was completely sink my thoughts into work and out of my personal life. I got really thin. I felt like it happened so quick, I didn’t even notice that I was losing weight, I just noticed that I had no desire to eat. And then one day a size 8 pair of pants were literally falling off of me. I bought a shirt that showed my mid drift and I wanted to wear it all the time. I got so many compliments and maybe for the first time, I believed people meant it when they said I was beautiful.
So the shirt is in my closet now, and I refuse to throw it away. It is black and has a silver star on it. The perfect length sleeves and the perfect amount of stretch for a really flat stomach…something I may never see again.
So why do I get satisfaction from food? Why does anyone? What does it replace for us? I feel like if I could figure that out, I could be the vision in white (or ivory) that I dream about.