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<p>I woke up to a great day. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Got on the scale down 1.5 pounds. My legs and hurt hammy weren't sore from yesterday's 12-miler. And even though I despise my job, I've paid to have my resume rewritten and I've seen the first draft and it makes me look all kinds of bad arse. I'm looking for a new job and hope to be in a new position by the new year. Yuppers, all is coming up multi-colored gerbera daisies in my world.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then I get to work, and my usually affable boss is in a sour mood and snaps at me (he MUST be crazy snappin' at a sistah like that). Then he asks me for a couple of items that I'd told him on Friday that I hadn't finished and I'd complete first thing today, what, does this outfit I have on shout THE AMAZING KRESKIN to you? I just walked in, what makes you think I'm'ah have them done? You think I'm one of them black folk from the bayou that has magical juju and I can just make crap up????...why do I even try to communicate with the man.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, I work like a dog all morning, into the afternoon and then around 1:50 I decide to take a break for lunch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Usually, I eat my lunch at my desk because I just don't have the time to sachet off and enjoy a meal by myself. But today, I wanted to get away from the snarkyness that is my grumpy boss, so I heated up my lunch and sat in the breakroom and ate it. I decided to eat later on purpose - because I knew the breakroom would be empty and I didn't want to be bothered or forced into some stupid small talk. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The best laid plans...ya know, blah, blah, blah, blah.....</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So I'm sitting quietly in the breakroom reading about the Cowperson's collasal (sp?) loss and giggling at Jerry Jones' misfortune, and in walks a person who looks at my lunch and makes an ugly face and asks what I'm eating. This happens four times in the 20 minutes I'm in there. And they don't just grimace, they put their face close to it, then they step back and stare at it. REALLLY????? </p>
<p> </p>
<p><span style="text-decoration:underline;"><strong>IT'S CALLED HEALTHY CLEAN EATING YOU FAT F**KS!!! </strong></span> It was funny when I first started working here, but gimme a break, I've been here for 18 months, and you really feel the need to make fun of my food EVERYTIME you see me eating??? It's old, give it a break! Just because my food is colorful and isn't brown and it doesn't come in a bag with grease spots on it, does not give you the right to treat me like a freak at the freakshow. Maybe if you ate like me, you'd be less of a FAT F**K!!! Just sayin'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>that's it...I'm done, I feel cleansed....</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Got on the scale down 1.5 pounds. My legs and hurt hammy weren't sore from yesterday's 12-miler. And even though I despise my job, I've paid to have my resume rewritten and I've seen the first draft and it makes me look all kinds of bad arse. I'm looking for a new job and hope to be in a new position by the new year. Yuppers, all is coming up multi-colored gerbera daisies in my world.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Then I get to work, and my usually affable boss is in a sour mood and snaps at me (he MUST be crazy snappin' at a sistah like that). Then he asks me for a couple of items that I'd told him on Friday that I hadn't finished and I'd complete first thing today, what, does this outfit I have on shout THE AMAZING KRESKIN to you? I just walked in, what makes you think I'm'ah have them done? You think I'm one of them black folk from the bayou that has magical juju and I can just make crap up????...why do I even try to communicate with the man.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So, I work like a dog all morning, into the afternoon and then around 1:50 I decide to take a break for lunch.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Usually, I eat my lunch at my desk because I just don't have the time to sachet off and enjoy a meal by myself. But today, I wanted to get away from the snarkyness that is my grumpy boss, so I heated up my lunch and sat in the breakroom and ate it. I decided to eat later on purpose - because I knew the breakroom would be empty and I didn't want to be bothered or forced into some stupid small talk. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>The best laid plans...ya know, blah, blah, blah, blah.....</p>
<p> </p>
<p>So I'm sitting quietly in the breakroom reading about the Cowperson's collasal (sp?) loss and giggling at Jerry Jones' misfortune, and in walks a person who looks at my lunch and makes an ugly face and asks what I'm eating. This happens four times in the 20 minutes I'm in there. And they don't just grimace, they put their face close to it, then they step back and stare at it. REALLLY????? </p>
<p> </p>
<p><span style="text-decoration:underline;"><strong>IT'S CALLED HEALTHY CLEAN EATING YOU FAT F**KS!!! </strong></span> It was funny when I first started working here, but gimme a break, I've been here for 18 months, and you really feel the need to make fun of my food EVERYTIME you see me eating??? It's old, give it a break! Just because my food is colorful and isn't brown and it doesn't come in a bag with grease spots on it, does not give you the right to treat me like a freak at the freakshow. Maybe if you ate like me, you'd be less of a FAT F**K!!! Just sayin'</p>
<p> </p>
<p>that's it...I'm done, I feel cleansed....</p>
