Friday, April 29, 2011

It's late so I'd just like to share something really fast,

This evening (well technically yesterday evening) I was in the midst of my run when I couldn't help but smirk at myself; here I am at twenty years old, spending my friday evening running over six miles in an over-sized burgundy Flash t-shirt, black running shorts, grey/neon green running shoes, and cupcake underwear.
    and somewhere back in my house was my phone with the, "Trek yourself before you wreck youself" Spok background.

World, meet Lauren.

Wednesday, April 20, 2011

I'm glad to know that despite my hellacious schedule where I spend a vast (let me reitterate; vast) majority of my life on busy ambulances or in school, I am still able to fit in 6-7 mile runs.

Not only am I able to fit them in but I am able to own them.

I'll sleep when I'm dead.

Monday, April 11, 2011

After all, barbie came in heels.

I hate that we live in a world where women are raised to hate their bodies. Where Barbie's completely irrational shape is considered perfect and counting ribs from across the room makes her them an idol.

Women who are naturally curvy starve themselves to be thin and women who are naturally thin are getting implants to give the illusion of curves.

It's like by the age of 5 you're already predisposed to have an eating disorder that is her dirty little secret. Because god knows admitting to falling victim to the pressures of culture and actually being human makes her an attention seeker. and according to society, women are naturally supposed to be a double zero, while eating pizza and beer and not pooping. Because all men know that women don't do that; we piss glitter and rainbows come out of our asses.

And then there's porn which is full of these women who are injected, nipped/tucked, airbrushed, and gave up carbohydrates back in the early nineties in exchange for cocaine.They're the Bentley of women. The hidden treasure and certainly daddy's pride and joy.

Men have made out like bandits, and then have the audacity to scuff and tease a woman for having a few extra pounds. Or openly make vulgar comments about her shape, like that's all that matters and that's all she is. The notches in their beds are conquests and somehow, make them more of a man.
     Women get waxed, stand in front of mirrors for hours pinching skin and making a mental checklist of all the flaws that somehow make them not only less of a woman but less of a person and not as deserving of love and companionship because in this fucked up world she'll silently compare herself to redtube. And then she'll regret every extra calorie for the past week and a half.

Men want to come home to a screen and then go home to someone who lies there, in relief the lights are off and wondering if he noticed her premenstrual bloat or the cookies she ate earlier.

Even though we can work beside a man for the same pay, the world never really changed. There's this unobtainable image we're supposed to have, all while being a CEO, having children, keeping the house clean, and dinner on the table by six-thirty. 

Women are supposed to be under five foot six, one hundred pounds, perfect skin, big boobs, tiny feet, weak, emotionally dependent, and do only cute girly things. There's no such thing as blemishes, drinking out of the jug, burping, cellulite, independence, or strong; physically and emotionally. She shouldn't be able to reach the bowl off the top shelf in the kitchen or outrun him. Her thighs shouldn't be big, especially with muscle, and she shouldn't worship her running shoes right?

I don't think hate is the word

Saturday, April 9, 2011

it's saturday night and

I just cried to Faithfully (by Journey) while spooning with my dog.

Needless to say, it's not been a pleasant few days.
and I'm a sad excuse for twenty.

Wednesday, April 6, 2011

I'm confident the only luck I'll ever have is bad.

I managed to get off shift of a ridiculously busy twenty-four on time; beaming and ready to start a long fantasized about day off in a bikini on the sand. I had it all planned out, I was going to wear my cute blue sundress that made my long legs look even longer, with my flip flops and even put in my contacts. After all, I had been dieting hard and trading some of my minuscule amounts of sleep for a little extra time pounding the asphalt in preparation what I was convinced, was going to be perfect. Except there was torrential downpour that knocked out our power. Which of course made finding my blue dress a shot in the dark (no pun intended). We found it after ten minutes of fumbling and guess what it needed desperately? To be ironed [mumbles].
After doing my make up via window light and a few sprits of victoria secret perfume we headed out the door and suddenly with a flicker and return of the buzz of the refrigerator the lights came back on [mumbles].

On the way to the truck my flip-flop got stuck in mud and my hair went from tussled and cute to a frizzled hot mess in about two minutes.

Then there was the wounded, cold and wet, pitiful, scared shepherd puppy we found crossing traffic and his glass half full, "well this is going to end one of two ways, he's either going to get hit by a car, freeze to death, or be picked up by animal control and put down"... It's not even lunch time yet.

We stopped by Ikea and instead of being ecstatic I found myself frustrated that these were all things I should already have in my home, because I should have already had my new home months ago. I was hungry, my debt card was burning a hole in my purse, and my knee's were shooting pain that rocked my bone. Let's add orthopedic doctor to my list of specialty physicians I'll be seeing after august.

We did however have a delicious carb and sodium loaded lunch at the Spaghetti Warehouse, (an all-time favorite of mine nestled in an old brick building on the corner of Ybor) since as long as I can remember. Followed by tracking down and falling in love with The Cuppy, The Chocolate Elvis, Bunny hops, Better Thans, S'mores, and Butterscotch Babies by . My day was starting to follow my plan and finally, we were going to curb a long time craving since we stumbled across a little piece of heaven in Chattanooga, TN. These my friends are not your average suzie homemaker/ local grocery store cupcakes; no, they're heroin for your taste buds.

So good in fact, it made the realization of leaving my cell phone back in Ybor tolerable. After all, it was more drive time to say, "ohmygod!" after every bite of exceeding our expectation and skepticism.

(By the way, I cut my finger on the bread knife at lunch)I completed the first of about six final exams today and I'm not throwing up or hanging my head. Which, is surprising considering I study about as much as I sleep and if you could see the bags under my eyes, you'd understand.

I thought college libraries are supposed to be quiet.

You know why I hate community, oh I'm sorry, "state" colleges? highschoolers are allowed here.
and you know what I hate? Highschoolers.

Friday, April 1, 2011

I really wish we'd close on the new house already.

I spend an unhealthy amount of time on and abstinence does not make the heart grow fonder; it makes my stomach more bitter; I've been craving delicious, rich, heaven-in-a-cute-paper-cup cupcakes something serious for a while now (since Tennessee actually but who's keeping track). But I'm saving myself for my new kitchen.

Don't get me wrong; my ass thanks for you the delay but the rest of me? Not so much.