'Special' like, 'short-bus'?

I am getting fat. I sit in a spindly chair all day and talk on the phone to the socially retarded people who scream at their neighbors or whatever while on the phone with me. It’s strenuous labor, I swear, but I’m pretty sure it is making me fat.



This is the box currently sitting on top of my fridge.

I refuse to accept it. I keep telling myself I’m going to go on that G-D awful “Special K diet” where you only eat cereal and ice cubes until you gradually waste away into nothingness. (Sexy, right?) But everytime I stand before the cereal asile in the grocery store and resolve to do it, I look at the cereal and I see that woman on the box. The girl on the box obviously has no responsibility in life other than to look happy and well fed while she goes about her daily activities such as stretching, excercizing slowly while counting out loud and smiling in a benign fashion. She looks beautiful and mentally delayed. I don’t trust her to peddle me anything more interesting than beige colored excercise socks.

Apparently, if you eat the cereal, you will be thin and benignly happy like this woman. (This can’t be right.) I stand there looking at the box for a bit, debating. Do I want to be thin and healthy? Sure. Do I want to smile the smile of a carefree beautiful person? Absolutley. Can I get all that from this box of cereal? It’s possible. Then snap out of it and laugh like a maniac all the way to the crap asile where I load up on sugar and empty carbohydrates. It’s a vicious cycle.

Recently I finally broke down and bought a box. For the longest time, it just sat there on top of the fridge, unopened. Judging me. Eventually, I opened the cereal and tried a handful directly from the box.

Meh. It’s like cardboard bits coated in splenda. Nothing exciting that makes me instantaneously lose ten pounds and want to go for an eight mile run. I think the folks at Special K may or may not be using their product for packaging. Oh, the duality.

I called to verify and Boyfriend promises to love me no matter how much I weigh so I think I’ll pass. The box can just sit up there on top of my fridge and judge me.