Keep Moving Forward: Drunk Body

Hey girl, let’s talk.

So you’re kind of mean when you’re sober. You’re a little harsh on your hot bod when you stand on the scale, when you put on something that used to fit, when you can’t find anything to wear, looking for something to eat, eaten something “bad”, which is why I’ve made the executive decision to talk to you about this sort of thing only when:

We’re buzzed, tipsy, drunk, or otherwise inebriated. Because giiiirl, you fine.

I think we should only talk to our bodies or think about our body shape, size, or looks when we are drunk because I don’t know about you, but I hit on myself a lot more when I’m a little drunk.

Oh my God. That makes me sound hideous and like I need beer goggles to look at myself. That’s so horrible!

But hear me out, I know I’m beautiful. I’ve got a symmetrical face, I have nice skin, I have big giant Mediterranean eyes that are as green as a deep dark forest, I have lips that pull off red lipstick, and an hour glass figure that is so well proportioned that you wouldn’t know that I’m tipping the scale towards 200 pounds.

This is not bragging, these are stone cold facts. People have actually said these things to me before. Most of them while staring at me. I’m dead serious. One guy was like three inches away from my face staring at me and I was like ‘What the fuck?” and he’s like “I’ve never seen anyone with such a symmetrical face.” and then, naturally creeped out, I backed out of the room slowly.

So why when I stand on said scale do I think the absolute worst? Having fat isn’t the worst! That means that I’ve enjoyed food, and I have the luxury of sitting on my ass reading or writing or making things from other things.

I have the ability to move and grow muscle and be nice to myself, but I just plain old haven’t been doing it.

And I’m kicking my own ass mentally for it all the time.

So I’ve decided that I’m only going to talk to myself about my looks when I’m tipsy, because that’s the one time I really see myself for who and what I am. Other times I’m looking at all the flaws, but alcohol forces me to look not with beer goggles but with truth goggles.

I’m fucking adorable and I should stop being such a bitch to myself.

And so should you.

Have a couple of glasses of wine and THEN look in a mirror or step on a scale. Because when I do it goes something like this:

SOBER: *Steps on scale* 194?! Fuck. Fuck fuck fuckity fuck. You fat ass. Did you really need to eat that entire bag of mini eggs! What about those three steaks? Hm? Eat like a rabbit and you’ll be who you want to be! You need to work harder, do more, be more, this is getting ridiculous! You are the worst, you might as well just go and hide under the covers ordering new outfits for your giant body online because you shouldn’t ever go into stores with that harsh lighting and people staring at your hideous body. X-large here we come. Jackass.

DRUNK: *Steps on scale* 194? Hahahahahaha probably my jeans. I should take off my jeans. Those weigh like 4 pounds. God I hate pants. Okay, pants off. 193? Hm, maybe it’s my shirt too, I should just do this naked, what am I thinking? 192.8! Look at that! Hot mama in the house. *Turns to mirror* Curve curve curve, swerve, not bad when I’m naked. My clothes are ill fitting and make me bulge in the wrong places. Maybe I’ll stop wearing real bras. Sober voice: “Or you could lose weight!” Drunk voice: “Or we could eat a whole pizza and you can suck my dick!” Wiggles thighs and laughs. Oh my god I want poutine. We should probably put our clothes back on and go find delicious food.*Redresses* I’m going to listen to Taylor Swift and put red lipstick on and then go eat another bag of mini eggs and then find a Tom Hiddleston something to watch on Netflix. Winner winner chocolate dinner. We’re gorgeous, check back with you never scale! To the trash with you! Huzzah!

Okay that’s not 100% accurate.

Sometimes I watch things with Benedict Cumberbatch in them too.

Keep moving forward!

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