Daily Aggravation 42: Fat-Induced Steampunk Attire

I’m at that golden weight where nothing fits and I look like a kielbasa in heels when I put on a fancy dress. This is problematic, because I’m going to a family member’s wedding next month (!!!) and I’m obviously going to have to wear a dress to it.

Today, as I grunted and struggled to zip up a hot little number I’d ordered on the internet, I came to the terrible realization that I’m going to have to wear a Victorian mourning outfit to the wedding. Damn you, Caramel Frappucinos! Damn you to hell!

A Little Chat About Jenny Craig

At the beginning of this summer, while I was down in DC visiting family, my aunt took a photograph of me and all of my cousins standing together. It should’ve been a beautiful shot; we had posed in her garden, the light was mid-afternoon light, and it was the first time we’d all been together as adults.

When I saw the photo on Facebook, though, I gasped audibly. We’ll put it this way: my first thought wasn’t, “Awesome, I totally had that whole ‘John Goodman-meets-Jiminy Glick’ thing going for me that day!” I was totally bummed that I had ruined what could have been a lovely memento by looking like I should’ve been wearing a burlap sack and ringing the village bell.

My aunt had joined Jenny Craig a few weeks earlier, and soon after I saw the photo, I went with her to one of her meetings and to pick up her week’s allotment of food. For those of you who haven’t been blessed with a hearty appetite for pie and/or Lady Television: Jenny Craig is a weight loss program on which you eat ONLY Jenny Craig food (and vegetables) until you’ve reached the halfway point to your goal weight.

At the Jenny center, two different women asked me if I needed help while I was waiting for my aunt. I figured this probably meant that the Eileen Fisher shmata I was wearing was not doing as great a job of concealing my girth as I had previously thought. Then I figured I should probably join Jenny Craig.

So I joined Jenny Craig. And lost all this weight. Just kidding! I paid hundreds of dollars to gain five pounds and get harangued about being fat for a month.

<Fin.>

A Hair’s Tale

When I was 16, I had my hair chemically straightened for the first time by a surly gentleman in a hair salon in Koreatown. It was a surreal experience; the whole process took – I kid you not – 8 hours, and I was left with a lasting memory when the guy BURNT MY SCALP so badly that the hairs on that patch of head don’t grow right anymore.

Anyway, since then, I’ve been on a quest to find my holy grail of hair conditioners. When I saw that Ulta was selling something online called a ‘Macadamia Natural Oil Deep Repair Masque,’ I knew I had to have it. It seemed so exotic – and people said it magically transformed their hair from dry, straw-like birds’ nests into silky, touchable Mermaid hair. I bought it.

The little brown package finally arrived in the mail a few weeks later. As I was opening the wrapping, I could hear a chorus of angels softly humming a Take 6 song. I felt like King Arthur. And when I finally untwisted the top of the jar and smelled the glory of the Macadamia nut? Well, hey, I’ll admit it – I cried a little bit.

I decided the best way to make use of this ‘masque’ would be to leave it on overnight. That way, it would have time to work into my poor, dry hair, and in the morning, I would look like Alessandra Ambrosio. When I finally rinsed it out, I decided not to put anything else in my hair, to just let it dry naturally. You know, mermaid hair, a chorus of angels, etc., etc. And so I let it dry.

It was like a scene out of a horror movie when, a few hours later, I finally looked in the mirror and saw a member of the Westboro Baptist Church staring back at me.