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60% of you are going to be disappointed with the lack of boobies in this post.

We’re all on a mission of some sort.

For some, their mission is to become a better person, or donate more money to charity. For others, it’s to get to that booger that’s way in the back and has gotten all hard and pointy. Other people are trying to see how many times they can scratch their butt in public without being caught. (“I’m up to five, bro! Up top!”) Some people in my community are on a mission to see how many years they can shun the dentist and still keep that one tooth in the front. I know someone who calls it Chomper. Still, others are on a mission to make all teachers seem to be the human reincarnation of Satan in our country. There’s a reason I remain anonymous on here. (Oh no, she di’int just get on a political soapbox on a humor blog! *z-snap*)

Anyway, the point is, we all have a mission in life.

Chances are, you came to this blog on a mission for porn.

You see, I have a slight obsession with checking my stats. In the past week, about 60% of my hits were referred from a Google Images search. Nearly all of those image searches include the name “Jenna Marbles” and some sort of body part or adjective. Just look:

This list makes me proud to be a woman. I mean, instead of searches for “jenna marbles smart” or “jenna marbles funny,” we have searches for her full body, boobs, under wear (btdubs, it’s one word, you horny moron), and legs. As Jenna has stated in her “How To Get Ready For A Date” vlog, we’re all sexual objects, anyway. We shouldn’t try to be interesting, or intelligent, or wear anything that won’t show off our “sweater puppies.”

So, go ahead, you 15 year old perverts. Keep searching for “jenna marbles hot” and “jenna marbles boobies” (Yeah, I got that one today. They can’t be any older than 14 for that big boy wording). Continue to type things like “moms cleavage” into your Google search box.


Back up the freaking Oedipal train.

Someone was searching for moms cleavage and found my blog?? And I thought I had issues. I bet they were really disappointed when they clicked here. This is probably the same kind of kid who was breastfeeding until age 6. Ah, mom’s cleavage. Makes me feel so cuddly, warm and safe. Amirite???? (And covered in baby powder.)

So, thanks to the 10% of you who actually stop by and read. To the other 90% of you, keep searching for your porn. I admire someone who has perseverance. I hope you achieve your goal. (Crossed the line?)


I’ll eat a sandwich if you shut up

Eat a sandwich. If you turned sideways, you’d disappear! Did you know you have chicken legs? I’m pretty sure your thigh is the size of my wrist. Aww, your outfit is cute – did you get it in the kids’ department? My dog probably weighs more than you do. Here, have some more to eat; you look like you’re wasting away.

People have actually made these comments (and many more) to me over the course of my life.

For some reason, it’s completely acceptable to comment on someone else’s weight, as long as that person is thin.

I’ve always been the skinny girl. Throughout my childhood, my mom had to dress me in clothes that were typically made for younger kids. I didn’t have to wear a bra until I was in about seventh grade because I didn’t have enough body fat to justify the need. In high school, my clothes sagged around my frame as I tried in vain to look average-sized. During my college years, I finally started to accept my body. However, this didn’t make shopping any easier for me. My friends would wear dresses that flattered their curvy bodies and jeans that hugged their rear ends. My attempts to try on those clothes always resulted in awkward baggy areas in front of my non-existent boobs, shirts that resembled Hefty bags on my willowy frame, and jeans that made me look like I had a full diaper.

I’m 25 and I still have to shop in the juniors department.

Believe it or not, we’re only related by marriage.

I know what most of you are thinking right now. (besides how awesome my Stick Stickly reference was)

“You are so lucky! Really, you shouldn’t be complaining. Oh, and by the way – you are just SO skinny!”

Ok, fair enough. Well, since we’re on the subject of weight, did you know you have cankles? Oh, and you really should cut back on the desserts. Bison aren’t native to the Midwest.

…Awkward silence. Appalled expressions. Shifty eyes around the room.

So, it offends you if I call you fat? Of course. It would be totally rude for me to make judgements about your weight, and most of all, for me to make comments out loud. I mean, clearly I have no idea how hard you’ve been working to lose those five extra pounds. I don’t know that you’ve been getting up an hour early every morning to jog before work, that you’ve been using a calorie counter app on your phone, and you’re still not getting the results you want.

Yes, that would be totally out of line for me to make those judgements.

But anyway, back to how “lucky” I am to be skinny. This summer, I started working out for the first time in my life. I’ve always tried to gain weight, but didn’t know how. Until this summer, I feasted on fast food, anything fried, candy, desserts, snacked until I went to bed, and still never gained a pound. I’ve been the same weight since I was about 18 and before that, I was about 95 pounds all the way through high school. It turns out I was going at this completely the wrong way.

One of my friends invited me to start going to the gym with her about a month ago. At first, the idea was terrifying. I had never worked out for a few reasons:

  • No one in my family is active and I had no idea what to do.
  • I was afraid I would lose weight and we all know that’s the last thing I need.
  • I was afraid that people in the gym would judge me and think, “What’s that anorexic chick doing on the elliptical? Someone get her a McDonald’s IV stat!”

However, I decided to grow a pair and tried it. I love it. It’s become addicting. Yeah, I’ve gotten a few strange looks and one guy even smirked at me as I struggled to lift 25 lbs. on the shoulder press. You know what, smirky guy? Bite me.

We’ve even gotten a personal trainer together and I’m noticing a little bit of muscle on my arms. Don’t get me wrong; I still look like I’m 15. Parents of my students still walk into the band room and ask me where the teacher is. (I was asked for my hall pass at the high school a couple years ago.)

Though small, the changes I’m seeing are encouraging. I’ve even changed my diet drastically in the last few weeks. My trainer says I have to burn some fat to gain the 12 or so pounds of muscle I need. Believe it or not, the correct way for me to gain weight is to eat the same way that someone who’s trying to lose weight does. I just have to eat about 6 times a day to balance my calorie intake with my metabolism that gives Road Runner a run for his money.

I’ve realized how hard it is to eat right. Those who are Facebook friends with me saw my status regarding the taste similarities between rice cakes and packing peanuts. Seriously – who thought that was a good idea?

One of the only things keeping me motivated is seeing Jenna Mourey’s body. If you don’t know who this chick is, you need to educate yourself via YouTube. JennaMarbles. Do it…unless you’re offended by profanity and sarcasm, in which case you shouldn’t even be reading this blog.

Maybe after working out for about five years, I could look half as good as she does.

Until then, don’t worry; I ate a sandwich today.