A Note On People (Landladies) Who Comment On Your Weight

I have recently, as many of you know, lost (give or take a lil') 37 pounds, thanks to Nutrisystem and a desire to not feel like my ass was a separate entity with its own planets orbiting around it. I'm on my way to a 40-pound goal. That would get me at 125. I will also receive a 40-pound teddy bear from Nutrisystem, which, let's face it - that's the real reason I lost the weight. The health issues and self confidence thing were just an offshoot. I wanted the teddy bears. (They give you one for every ten pounds you lose, like a chip in A.A. - so I have three little bears lined up on my shelf, in cool colors, all saying "Yo, biotch, when you gettin' 40-Spank to join us?"

Well, they don't really say that, that's just in my mind. Or do they? But that's a whole other blog for another day...

So anyway, I digress. Back to my ball-busting landlady who has less social tact and grace than a water buffalo at a Sotheby's auction.

I had just come back today from going to Strand, where I sold a good 60 or so books, and Brad helped me schlep the damn things in a big suitcase and two bags. I made $70. Not bad...actually I'm totally stoked. If you take away the pain in the ass it is to haul it there and then deal with the OBNOXIOUS, RUDE, CONCEITED-FOR-NO-REASON-BECAUSE-THEY'RE-BOOK-WHORES-LIKE-ME fuckers that work there, it really is a cool thing. Except when they casually toss a 1st edition of (fill in the blank) that you know has some value aside and say "We have no resale use for this. We're not taking it." And then some other lackey fuck is like "but if you don't want to take it home with you, we'll keep it." - yeah, asshole, sure you will. You can at least put it on your $1 rack.

But, again, I digress.

So, I come home, greet the critters, and my landlady calls me upstairs to see the two turtles that she got for her daughter, V. Some of you have been to my home and have met this woman and her daughter...and know that this lady is a piece of work. She amazes me. Part of me truly cannot stand her...and another part of me really likes her. I guess its like that nursery rhyme - ...When she was good, she was very, very good; but when she was bad, she was horrid!. Yeah, I think she's really out of her mind because she thinks we're friends - and I have thought so too, in the past, and then she's turned around and raised my rent $100 with two weeks notice to start paying it. And since I don't have a lease, I'm basically getting ass-fucked without lube and I have to take it with a smile - and she knows it. Then, after pocketing my money, while I'm rubbing my ass from the anal rape (and no reach around, even) she'll invite me up to dinner and drinks with her and the family. Wow.

Okay, I swear I'm getting to the point of the story. So...I get home and A. calls me upstairs and I'm looking at the turtles, who are cute, actually, and I'm thinking (for about .02 miliseconds) about what it would be like to get turtles, and then Anna starts grilling me about my weight. Please note that her accent is a thick Polish, her English is really bad unless she's talking about money; and she always mispronounces my name, although I've lived here over four years.

A. : So, Dianna, you have lost all this weight - how much are you now?
Me: About 128...Hey, nice turtle!
A.: So, you want to lose how much more?
Me: About 3 pounds to my goal - but if I lose a couple more, it'll be a bonus.
A.: That's all? You don't want to lose more?
Me: Excuse me?
A.: Don't you think you should get down to at least 120?
Me: Well, yeah, that would be cool, but I'm not going to force it...
A.: How much did you weight when you were 18?
Me: Well, I've gotten down to 112 before, but...
A.: That would be a good weight for you.
Me: Hm. We'll see
A.: 128...That's what I am right now. You weigh what I weigh.
Me: Really...interesting...Wow! Cool turtle!


Then she wanted to make plans to start going with me to the gym, because she needs to get exercising. Perhaps we can...and I can have her do the bench press...and just add about 100 pounds on there when she's not looking...and when she needs a spotter to help save her, I'll just walk away and pretend I don't hear the muffled pleas as she starts to pass out from lack of oxygen. I told her I would get her a guest pass so she can go, but that I go late at night (which is often true), hoping she would say "aw, no way..."

Let me make myself very clear: many of you know that I get enough shit from a certain family member about my weight, and have for my whole life. But this person is even saying kind things about how I look now, and when I say that my goal is 125, with maybe a little bit more, say, 120 as a BONUS. But not something I'll push towards with the tenacity of Joan-of-fucking-Arc. Even THIS family member is like "Yeah, totally, 120-125. Sounds great, but you look wonderful." (even though she was pushing the 112 thing for a while a few months ago).

However, I am certainly not going to stand around and put up with a Polish ex-flight attendant who is losing her fucking teeth, raising a spoiled brat, whose husband can't even stand her, telling me that "I really should lose much more" as if I look fat. What? I think it just burns her ass that I was once a big fat bastard and now I'm actually her weight and look healthier and trimmer than her - so she has to give me shit. I admit I have to hit the gym and exercise some more than I have been doing...I need to tone up. But if it wasn't for the fact that this nutjob has access to the Red Button as to whether or not I need to deal with moving any time soon or not keeps me from planting a verbal size 8 shoe up her ass.

Anyway, other than that, I'm having a great day.
:)