Friday, November 27, 2009

Knocked Up

You know what is even worse than the regular nutty-hot model chicks gracing the covers of the bajillion magazines that get delivered to my work? FitPregnacy cover models. Not only are they superhumanly good looking to begin with, the bun in their oven doesn't even make them fat, they just look "glowing" and stoked AND they have huge knockers; the only thing I can usually one-up these broads on.

Models are already playing with a genetically stacked deck, the least they can do is have an eating disorder or an addiction to an illegal drug, the last thing I want to hear about is their wonderful husband and bundle of joy. This in no way means I want a child of my own, seeing as I can barely take care of myself and woke up last Monday morning with a 50/50 chance of not having electricity, because I forgot to open the two notices/bills they sent me. Since when does the color red stand for "warning" anyways? So yeah pregnant models, no thanks. That kid better be an accident.

In other news, I think I am going to make a pre-emptive call to Child Protective Services the next time I see someone posing for those "Lookee me! I am being Artsy whilst preg-o" awful glamour shots from one of those places you find at the mall. There is a reason people are only pregnant for nine months instead of always (unless you're Irish-Catholic) it's because that's not how you are supposed to normally look! Why would I want to cherish the memories of a time when I was obese and sober? I ate a mess of food last night in celebration of Turkey Day and I have since been avoiding mirrors at all costs, not snapping polaroids.

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