That dull ache. That bloated body. That constant exhaustion that not even a triple, non fat, half sweet, PSL can cure. That never ending bottomless pit, that is, your stomach. That way you make everything sound bitchy.
Ugh. Just get me my Lu Lu Lemon’s. And my bed. Comb my hair. Tell me I’m pretty. Rub my back. Where’s my heating pad? Oh, & feed me. Preferably ice cream. And chocolate. And chips. Maybe some tea? A side of fries. Yum, and cheesecake … you know, if you have time to stop on your way home. And maybe pick up a DVD copy of “Pretty Woman”, I need something to distract my eyes from seeing all of the food that I’ll be shoveling into my face.
The struggle is real. Period.
Pun intended. Fuck this. I’m going to go eat some pie, and maybe cry.