I'm a FAKE. SKINNY.
I actually know this for a fact, having been declared one only yesterday. A friend in the ward is making me some dresses, and I went in for a fitting. She had to let everything out, with the comment, "Wow, Re, I thought you were skinny, but you're not. You're like a fake skinny!"
Well, at least I know my place in the world.
While I appreciate your comments of my beauteousness, I need to come clean. I only post pictures that make me look good. Duh. But really? NOT. I feel I have deceived you.
Bloggers, I have sinned.
I have a double chin.
Here's me with the camera pointing down. Instantly gives you Audrey Hepburn neck! (It also has the added benefit of stretching your arms up, thus hiding any extra sets of triceps.)
But here is the previously UNPUBLISHED ARCHIVES, EXCLUSIVELY ON MY BLOG - me with the camera pointing up.
Wattle, wattle, wattle. The truth hurts.
Then there's my Equator of Love. I've got a good two fistfuls of flesh right above where I button my jeans. MUFFIN. TOP. (I prefer blueberry with the brown sugar crackle topping, but I'll go for double chocolate chip too. With butter.)
And I'm not EVEN puffing out. This is the real me in all my glory.
(Bytheway, belly fat is very fun to play with when you're watching a movie. But it gets in the way when I need to pick up cars. Or crayons. Or chalk. Or paper. Or little socks. Or food. Or silverware. Or ....)
Sidenote: I wasn't lying when I said I'm a size 6. But this is why I have no faith in the sizing system. I well recall reading the Wakefield twins in junior high, and they were described as "perfect size 6s." Well. I am the chubbiest size 6 I know. It's kind of like the penguins from Madagascar dreaming of Antartica all their life - then when they get there? This sucks. I'd rather be a tight 12 then a flabby 6. Period.
Next - thunder thighs. They really jiggle. If only I could hold them straight out while squeezing them constantly. Then they wouldn't look so bad. But I'm kind of a fan of WALKING. I would take a picture showing you how my legs resemble KFC's special recipe, but that would require moving. And I'm very comfortable in my chair.
Eyes. Lots of compliments on my eyes. MASCARA, people. Pur-lease. I'm a walking Maybelline ad. Haven't I already told you I'm an addict?
Skin. Huge pores. Irregular texture. Bumps. Zits (I'm 27!) And my eyes recently decided to get puffy dark circles as well, just to shake things up.