Today Jacinta came up and poked me in the stomach.
“You have a belly!” she exclaimed.
I gave her my very best “the fuck?” face.
“I never knew you had a belly!” she continued, before doing her best Pilsbury Dough Boy impersonation and poking me in the stomach again.
Oh. My. God.
I mean, I’m currently a size 4, so I think she thought it wouldn’t bother me, the way people jokingly call skinny people “fat” and think it’s hilarious. But I’m not that skinny. So seriously: what the fuck.
A few weeks after I dyed handprints in Morgan’s hair, she asked him why he had dinosaur claws on his head. I thought it was hilarious. She seemed horrified that he told me about it. Note to Jacinta: if I was pissed off at you, bringing up my belly isn’t going to smooth things over.
Morgan offered to knock me over and make out with me in front of everybody so that they could see how hot I am. I told him his pity just makes me feel fatter.
I’m going to change the name of this blog to “Short”. No cake for me.
I have a belly and dinosaur hands.
I am never. Ever. Eating. Again.