Family, Food, Facebook, Fat, Fuck.

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"Go on, take the money and run."

Wait, what? There's a woman shaped like me on a magazine cover? A fitness magazine cover?

The hell? Is that even legal? Holy shit, is the world ending?

I'd already been feeling fairly decent about my body lately...but THIS?

Damn, I'm an American woman whose self-esteem seems to be hovering around normal -- someone better send out a rep from Corprate to shut that shit down.

That's probably why there are ads inside the magazine, just to remind me that I am, in fact, too big for my britches.

Happy Valentine's Day from some Victoria's Secret cult bunker...

Um...you guys? Is anyone else scared?  

I went to the site to replace some basic lingerie I don't have to think about when I get dressed for work, stuff I can just put on and know for sure there'll be no lace, seams, or wonky padding disrupting my ensemble. (And, admittedly, MAYBE some special-interest items for down the line...)

But I don't think I can spend money there now. That's troubling. 

I'm not just being an asshole -- this photo LEGIT looks like that woman did not sign up for this.

INXS "Kick" you right in the feels

Speaking of working past perfectly good elements of pop culture weighed down by the emotion I associate with them...

Last night I found myself caught off-guard when I saw this new Apple ad during Scandal, featuring an older song I'd been avoiding pretty successfully.

A million years ago, I teased a man in the most delicious way for the duration of this song after he told me it made him think of me.

"You gonna go your whole life scared of that song? It's just a song. Don't make it a monster."*

I'm playing it in full now, because suck it, fuckface -- it was my song first.

*Quote from Silver Linings Playbook

Girl, PREACH!

Again, I have my own things to write, but it's been such a "Girl, PREACH" day on the Internet this morning. Just for the sake of brevity:

First, the new song from Adele, which...yes, as the article points out, please gut punch me right before the holidays. Bring it, Adele, I ain't scared. (It's got a li'l Lionel on it, but I'm not mad at it.)

Next, can we just talk again about Ashley Graham's FINE ass? I'm suddenly pretty proud of things I have that jiggle, even if they jiggle in a whiter, cottage-cheesier way than hers do.

And last, from last night's Scandal, Kerry Washington is my hero. I'm in the process of creating a "vision board" as one of the hippie-dippy elements of therapy (*eye roll*), and goddammit, I'm getting rid of everything I have and just building an altar to Kerry Washington, and obviously also to Shonda Rhimes. There will obviously be Scandles. (See what I did there?)

Feminine hyGENIUS!

Wow. Finally a feminine hygiene product ad that really just...GETS how I roll during my period. Just laying on my white sheets in lacy panties and an ugly sweater contest runner-up, keeping my nose warm but throwing my legs, super-prominent hip bones, and concave lady-belly to the wind, staring pensively at the ceiling.

Totes the dream, right, ladies?

Chick-fil-HEY.

...Goddammit, I hate everything. 

Man, bitches, though, amirite?

Have any of you ever been placated by a fucking frosted lemonade? Screw you, Chick-fil-A. Make it chocolate salted caramel and replace the wedding dress with the magically evasive unicorn of a tall boot that zips over my giant hamhock calves, and then MAYBE you'll sell me something.

In which I am eternally damned because of a shitty sandwich chain.

Well, I mean...the slogan WAS "eat fresh."

#LiveYourBrand