Donuts, Enigmas and Three Bucks

By nature, I am in no way a health nut. By choice, I am in a way a health nut. The reason being that I'm rather conscious of appearance and future career as a physique model. That's my goal anyway. Because of this consciousness, I've been avoiding excess food and sugary crap that isn't healthy. As a result, my figure has changed entirely for the better, but my sweet teeth [all of my denta are sweet] have been killing me. Supposedly once you've made it a habit to avoid excess sugars, they get out of your system. I testify that that is a complete out and out lie. For the past few months, I've been dieing [more or less] from not being able to eat as much sugar and food as I want to. I mean, I could if I really wanted to, but then I'd have to work extra to get it off, and I'm lazy enough to just not eat the extra. However, yesterday was a stressful day [I did find three pairs of pants that fit like a dream; with the exception that I'm about 4" too short for my favorite pair. Apparently, I only have a 25" inseam. Seriously? Yes. But I'm not really that short! I just have severely short legs. If I were to be broken down, I think I would have the legs of a person that was 4' 8", and the torso of a person who was 5' 9". Yes. I'm a little bit of a freak.], and so I didn't get my usual cardio in. A little disappointing, I will admit.

This morning I woke up, and immediately decided to grab some breakfast. Bad idea for me. My self control snapped when I smelled the French Toast. There goes my not-diet. Then, I got the urging for a donut. Who actually eats those?! Dios mio, they're so disgusting! Apparently not disgusting enough for my desperate denta.

After attending a spectacular shopping event and picking up some great items including a new lavender man sweater, a red cardigan and a hot pink super soft long sleeve tee shirt, my mom unfortunately agreed to stop by Winco to grab a donut. Not like she really had that much of a choice anyway, seeing as I was driving. So we wander around Winco for a few hours, and finally meander over to the magazine isle. I say isle because it was pretty much a desert island, and if you were stuck there you'd be toast. A magazine with the cast of Twilight [the new coming flick] on the cover caught my eye. Naturally, being the vampire that I am, I pick it up to examine the damage they've brought to my people. It wasn't nearly as bad as the description in People magazine. Moving on [finally] to the donut section, I stare at the glass case in awe.

I had a hard time picking out the donut that I wanted, because really I wanted all of them. I finally decided [after much help and scowls from my mom] to get a maple bar, a chocolate bar, and another maple bar for my dad. You see, the plan was for my mom and I to split a maple and a chocolate, so we each had half of the other's. I thought it was a fabulous idea. You have to realize though, that I've never bought donuts in my entire life, so I was a bit confused at the whole concept of 1. get a plastic protector sheet 2. pick up a donut 3. put it in the bag 4. use the same plastic protector sheet to pick up another donut and 5. put it in the same bag as the others. It blew me away! The lady behind me was probably thinking "Oh.... My.... Gosh.... You have got to be kidding me!" After I had picked up the three stinking donuts and wasted six and a half minutes doing so, I said to her "I've never bought donuts before in my life." Do you know what she said? "Really." What a stupid thing to say. Anyway, so the lines for the checkout were three miles long each, and of course all the people in line had sixty million items, and there we were with four [toothpaste, donuts, olive oil mayo and ciabatta bread] in the backest line of them all! Long story short, the donuts ended up having this nasty squirting cream/custard/crap in them, and they totally weren't worth the effort it will take to get them off.

I hate supermarket lines.

So... I have sort of an addiction [or passion] for reading mysteries, but I've never understood why they're called mysteries. That's such a dumb name! It's so... predictable! Because you can totally always tell what happened and who dun it, so "mystery" is a pretty nondescript title. I think "enigma" would be much more suitable, because even then in the genre flavor you can't tell what it is, unless you already know what an enigma is, and then it's just no fun for you anyway so it doesn't really matter because you're probably not even reading mysteries at all because you're too smart for them. But really, it's rather annoying to figure the "mystery" out when you still have 170 pages left. Very lame.

I suppose after eating that crappy donut that I'm off to get it out of my system, the non-bulimic way. Yes. I can feel some hills for me today. -Groans- Yeah yeah, I'm gone. Cheers, and remember not to give into those stupid sweet teeth I know you have!