Oh, Are We Back On That Again?**

Okay. Gather 'round, my pretties. Confession time. This one hurts.

I was rejected by a twag who posted a Craig's List personal ad because he thought I was too chubby.

Oh God. There, I wrote it.

I don't even know how I ended up looking at the Craig's List personal ad. I have not been in the market for a personal anything as of late, but through a convoluted series of events beginning with Lorelai and blueberries, I found myself perusing the CL personals the other day.

And so I found someone who I thought sounded interesting and looked attractive and said "What the hell-o?" I sent a very clever note, if I do say so myself, along with a very cute photo.

He wrote back, "I'll be honest with you that I'm not sure we're a physical fit. It's to say nothing of you, rather more of past experience with learning my preferences. And while maybe that makes me an asshole for sending this message, I don't like to blow people off."

Oh.

I see. And I hate your guts.

Alright, but to be fair, the truth is that I could stand to lose about 10 pounds. Okay, 15 pounds.

I can hear all of my girl friends out there screaming already, "Nooooooooooooooooooooo!!!!!!" but ladies, it's true.

I am not huge, kids. I'm not a tub o'lard, nor do I hate myself. I have had no shortage of attractive suitors who have been quite pleased with my body, but I am not delusional. I know I would look and feel better as a smaller size.

Here is a photo of Megan Jane and I from the wedding that I wanted to include, but I didn't because I felt like I looked chubby. And I'm kind of squinty and my hair is doing something weird, but mostly the chubby-factor held me back. No point in hiding now, though. For the record, this is not the photo I sent the Craig's List twag.



At 5' 7", I weigh 151, as of this morning, which is in the upper end of all of the height/weight indices, but still within the limits of "well proportioned."

In fact, I'm one of the few people I know who thinks I look better naked than I do with clothes. I've probably already mentioned it, but I always recall the ex-boyfriend who said, "I love your body. You look like you should be reclining on a chaise lounge with a chalice and some grapes."

I also look to the comforting, if not slightly unsettling, realization that my very own Dad seems to favor fuller-figured women. I don't like to spend much time thinking about my Dad's sexual preferences, for obvious reasons I hope, but my Dad is a handsome dude who always seemed to go for ladies with a whole lot to offer, if you know what I'm saying.

So, it was not without some reservation that a few weeks back I revamped my fitness routine to once again achieve that perfect marriage of a slender figure with curves that are poppin', as the kids say.

Craig's List twag may not have kick started this development, but he certainly kicked my ass.

You know the cycle—you're all hot and working out all of the time, and then you get into a relationship and get comfy, and then you find another woman's underwear in your boyfriend's bedroom, then you're single again and go on a hot-wing and cheese steak eating spree, and then some Craig's List twag basically says you're chubby, so it's back the elliptical machine. And the damn crunches.

At brunch this past weekend, Kate from Hey Pretty, Kristin from Candy Sandwich and I had a serious conversation about jazzercise, which my sister is a huge fan of. My sister's Y actually asked her to become an instructor. I like the idea of jazzercise, but I'm not terribly coordinated, and really, there's only room for one jazzercise enthusiast in this family.

Still, I try to liven up my workout regimens, for which I am often ridiculed. I got some flak from the lifeguards this summer for taking my book into the pool to walk laps in the lanes, but it made sense to me. I love to read, I love to be in the pool; why not combine the two?

I'm sure the neighbors similarly enjoyed my spectacle yesterday with the combo of running for one song on the iPod, then dropping to do 10 push ups—the girly ones, I must admit. Those bitches are still hard.

I thought it was a brilliant plan until one of my arms fell off this morning. But, hey, I dropped 10 easy pounds.

I don't know, gang. I hate that this is even an issue for me. I wish I could just tell the Craig's List twag to bugger off, but in my heart-of-hearts, I know that we encounter people who give us important messages. Twag's was: "Don't let the couch suck you in again, and for Pete's sake, put down that hot wing."

I'm looking to fellow bloggers who have had tremendous success achieving their goals, and Spellbound is chief among them. You go, girl!

Because I can no longer reward myself with food but I am fairly broke, I allow myself to buy one new song for the iPod each time I work out. The latest purchase was Positive K's "I Gotta Man." **

Take that, Craig's List twag.

In the Comments section, give me some new songs to add to the iPod playlist.

Just Because I Can't Eat KFC Doesn't Mean I Can't Think About It

Can anyone tell me why KFC (the artist formerly known as Kentucky Fried Chicken) is using Lynrd Skynrd's Sweet Home ALABAMA in its ads?

Seriously. Is there a good reason for this complete disregard of geography? Or even a not-so-good reason?

I'm sorry, my pretties. I get cranky when I'm hungry, and, for rizzle, I would gladly kill for a potato wedge right now.

Incidentally, my Step-Mom is a distant relative of the Colonel's.

In the Comments section, tell me what you are craving, food or otherwise. The person who gets me to stop thinking about honey barbecue wings wins!