Where are we at with the PSL? I feel like for a while pumpkin spice lattes were this thing everybody made fun of, because for a while before that there were all those pictures of girls standing in orange leaves wearing lacy knitted boot socks and holding #PSLs, no? Am I making that up? I can't tell if they've now become something that people are ironically ordering or not. And irony is not generally lost on me. Just can somebody please tell me if the barista is rolling her eyes at me when I order a pumpkin spice latte. I JUST WANT TO BE COOL. Honestly though the Christmas flavors are where it's really at, so I'm saving the rest of my fancy coffee dollars for all of the peppermint things that anyone on the chain coffee marketing teams can come up with.
I never exercise on purpose, although I do usually move around just enough to keep my body from total open revolt. Usually. Last weekend I suddenly noticed that months of pork buns and empanadas and taking the bus to work more often than walking were beginning to appear in less than flattering ways on my various bits and pieces, so I naturally proceeded to house tupperware containers of kale and carrots for the entirety of this past week. Now, I have no idea how much I actually weigh because my checking account balance is the only number I'm interested in obsessing over ("0" is such an interesting number, don't you think?) but to be honest I know I'm about ten pounds over what my personal happy place is. I'd like to be able to say that if I'm going to give up foie gras it'll be because of cruelty to ducks and not just to starve myself back into those size 4 J.Crew shorts from two summers ago (I SWEAR I WORE THEM ONCE, I AM NOT MAKING IT UP) but that will just never be true for me. Anyway, I confess that these thoughts are inside my brain.
You want to know what I did on yesterday? Woke up at 7AM, spent an hour and forty-five minutes in the bathroom waxing my upper lip and bikini line and shaving the top parts of my legs for the first time in eight months. Then I got back in bed and turned on Audible and slept for three more hours before waking up to go spend my entire paycheck on butternut squash dumplings and drinks with maple grenadine. If I had a child right now, his or her memoir would be the kind where the family moves from one dusty trailer town to the next because the parents have to skip town whenever the law catches up to them.
"Write 31 Days" was changed to "Write 3 1/2 Days," in case you didn't know. I absolutely did not get bored and quit.
