I have a few pet peeves when it comes to healthy living, some involve the selfishness of gym goers (machines and all), some involve the skinny girls calling themselves fat, most of it involves the stupid line “I just forgot to eat” – yeah, I forgot you’re a dumbass; and the rest involves food.
It really isn’t the food that pisses me off; I love food, if I could take food to Vegas and marry the crap-out of it I would. The world would be a better place if we all just had enough food to go around. What does piss me off is when I am told what to eat – I found this out very quickly when I started to change my habits, that and my gluten intolerance. I hate being held to a register of what-nots and have-nots of food. So when the grace of Diet-God bestowed upon me my fantastic dietician whose savoured line is: Rather be Fat and Fit than Thin and Unfit. A mantra of fully-fledged responsibility of what you put in your mouth as a fat bitch, and walk out as a skinny monk.
I really don’t take my eating seriously; in fact, I must be the world’s worst eater. So I never hand out advice like slaps in the face – the world can do without being bossed around for ten minutes more. Let’s get back to my pet peeve, imagine this: You’ve just started a healthy-living lifestyle, you’ve found your groove its working wonders – I commend you for this, I really do. So once you’ve found your groove don’t, I repeat, DO NOT sit and yabber on excuses about my eating habits. I found my groove, so back off bitch.
This is the pet peeve, being lectured about what I am doing wrong. I stand there and take your whining about how me not eating breakfast doesn’t work for you. Wrong. I don’t. It’s tedious and frustrating and frankly got nothing to do with your metabolism and mine, because unless you’re my best friend or my mother you don’t get the right too. I highly doubt you’ve seen me cry at the foot of a scale, or heard the horrible things I have said to myself while tugging at my naked body fat in the mirror, nor have you heard names I was called on the playground, or have you seen me cry while running my first 3kms, and I know you weren’t there when my world shifted and I wanted something different.
So yes it ticks me off, rubs me the wrong way, gets my goat and truly-honest-to-the-heavens pisses me off.
Now that I have that off my chest – I better get something to eat, all this ranting has made me hungry.
It really isn’t the food that pisses me off; I love food, if I could take food to Vegas and marry the crap-out of it I would. The world would be a better place if we all just had enough food to go around. What does piss me off is when I am told what to eat – I found this out very quickly when I started to change my habits, that and my gluten intolerance. I hate being held to a register of what-nots and have-nots of food. So when the grace of Diet-God bestowed upon me my fantastic dietician whose savoured line is: Rather be Fat and Fit than Thin and Unfit. A mantra of fully-fledged responsibility of what you put in your mouth as a fat bitch, and walk out as a skinny monk.
I really don’t take my eating seriously; in fact, I must be the world’s worst eater. So I never hand out advice like slaps in the face – the world can do without being bossed around for ten minutes more. Let’s get back to my pet peeve, imagine this: You’ve just started a healthy-living lifestyle, you’ve found your groove its working wonders – I commend you for this, I really do. So once you’ve found your groove don’t, I repeat, DO NOT sit and yabber on excuses about my eating habits. I found my groove, so back off bitch.
This is the pet peeve, being lectured about what I am doing wrong. I stand there and take your whining about how me not eating breakfast doesn’t work for you. Wrong. I don’t. It’s tedious and frustrating and frankly got nothing to do with your metabolism and mine, because unless you’re my best friend or my mother you don’t get the right too. I highly doubt you’ve seen me cry at the foot of a scale, or heard the horrible things I have said to myself while tugging at my naked body fat in the mirror, nor have you heard names I was called on the playground, or have you seen me cry while running my first 3kms, and I know you weren’t there when my world shifted and I wanted something different.
So yes it ticks me off, rubs me the wrong way, gets my goat and truly-honest-to-the-heavens pisses me off.
Now that I have that off my chest – I better get something to eat, all this ranting has made me hungry.
Run, fat bitch!
1 comments:
I love you Kel Kel!
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