Run, Fat Boy, Run!
A memoir about me, you and most other people. But mostly me.
May 16, 2011
So, I totally did not forget to write yesterday. And the day before that. But it’s totally fine because a total of two events have occurred and they were not even something worthy of writing about, but I will anyway because I promise I would write in here.
Event Numero Uno:
I began my diet at breakfast and then promptly forgot about it at lunch. It was only during the last period of the day at school that I remembered I had started a diet. So I promised myself I’d start the next day. Well. The next day came and BAM. I did well with breakfast, I think. Here’s a fun fact about me: Don’t talk to me before I eat my breakfast or I’ll rip your head off. Okay, that’s more of a threat than a fact, but who cares? Anyway, breakfast consisted of a bowl of cereal and some string cheese. Why the string cheese? you may ask. Let me tell you. I was still hungry after my bowl of cereal. I know, I know. I sound like I’m finding excuses to eat, but you have to understand. I usually eat two bowls of cereal, so this was a pretty evolutionary step in my absolutely flawless plan to lose weight.
Blech, I hate that word. Weight. It’s just the polite way of saying, “So exactly how fat are you?” And you see it everywhere! Health forms, P.E. slips, science class, elevators (Maximum weight limit: ½ of you), ect. It makes me paranoid. Although, I did see something one time that made this word a lot easier to accept. It was a definition or something of weight, and it said something along the lines of “Weight is the measurement of how much gravity is pushing down on you.” Something like that. But I’m not for sure because I pretty much suck at science. But this definition made it seem like it wasn’t how many calories or carbs I load into my system, rather the amount of gravity the laws of the universe decide to push on my body.
Anyway. Summary of event one: I began my diet with a bowl of cereal and string cheese.
Event Numero Dos:
Okay, so this one is pretty important to write about, I suppose. There’s this girl. We’re going to call her Blonde, okay? So Blonde sits two seats away from me in Geology (worst. class. ever.). Normally, I wouldn’t pay attention to the lesson because I could honestly care less about rocks and weathering and minerals, but when she transferred into my class at the semester, it only made my not-paying-attention even worse. She has those big blue eyes (actually, I think they might be brown. Note: check next class) that are round and sparkly like jewels and these fingers… Oh God, I love good fingers. I’m a pianist at heart, so I know good, strong fingers when I see them. The nails are well-filed, of course, and the actual fingers themselves are beautiful. Not too bony, but also not too chunky. Slender and graceful. She must be a musician of some sort. I hope she’s not a band kid—I really cannot stand them. But if she played the violin or harp or guitar or even just sang, I’d be okay with that.
Her fingers are so damn sexy.
In Geology the other day, I imagined my fingers intertwined with hers. And everything sort of stopped in that moment. It was like Mr. Byrd and the whole class around me froze, and it was just me and her and our fingers. I don’t know how to even begin trying to describe what I felt the, so I won’t. I suck at description. Ask my English teacher.
So, yeah. I’ll keep writing in this thing, I suppose. It’s kind of fun. I can get all my feelings out without feeling judged or anything. Something I can confide anything in. A friend. Wow. I’m so loserish I have to resort to a word processor to be my only friend. But then again, what can you do?
Tomorrow’s a B day. Which means Geology 3rd period. And I’m totally okay with that.
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If you'd like me to PM you whenever a new part comes out, please say so in a comment or something.
-Jared
