Thursday, July 20, 2006

ThePeach Dabbles in Self-Loathing

I’ve been so busy studying, working, and drinking lately that I failed to notice my slow decline into becoming everything that I hate. But it happened, and now I feel dirty.

Peach’s #1 Hate: Label-Whores.
You’ve all heard me bitch about the anorexic ho-bags who wear nothing but lululemon gear to the gym, where they safely stow their louis vuitton handbags in their lockers and proceed to “stretch” half-heartedly on the gym mats in the weight area, hoping to catch the eye of a surgeon or lawyer as they demonstrate their capability to place their ankles behind their head during sex by sitting in the splits and talking on their cell-phones?

First of all, you don’t need to be able to do the splits to put your ankles behind your head during sex – you just need to be drunk.

Second of all, I hate those bitches and their perfectly groomed gym-hair (a pouffant half-up hair-do? Really?). They make people like me – the sweaty, disheveled, panting-for their lives people – look worse than we already do. Plus, we smell. God, how I hate those bitches!

Yet yesterday, as I walked to my yoga class, I realized that I WAS ONE OF THEM. True, my hair was far from ‘styled’ (unless two wet braids constitutes ‘style’), I wasn’t wearing a drop of makeup (hide your children!!), and I already kind of smelled from the walk – but I was wearing head-to-toe lulu. AND I LIKED IT. My black shorts made my ass look approximately 65% less fatty than it really was, my purple shirt managed to contain my sweats AND my tits – and gave me a little bit of cleave for the men-folk, and my new pink headband kept my hair out of my face and my sweat out of eyes. And all it cost me WAS MY SOUL.

Whatever…I’m not going to stop wearing them just because I hate myself. All that matters is that I’m pretty on the outside. Nobody can see my dead insides!

*sob*

Peach’s #2 Hate: My Mom.

That might sound a little harsh.



So, ya. I was leaning over the sink washing my face before I left for yoga, and when I straightened up to grab a towel – it happened. I clocked my head on the medicine cabinet above my sink. I may have attained a minor brain injury. You don’t need parietal lobes to function, right? Anyway, I swore like a motherfucker and my eyes welled up with tears and, goddamnit, IT HURT!

At this point, you might be asking how slamming my skull into a cabinet equals me becoming my mother. Well, my mom hits her head approximately once a day. She has for pretty much as long as I can remember. On the fridge door, car roofs, walls, anything she happened to be leaning under, other people’s heads…you name it, she rammed her head into it like a ‘tard expressing his anger. And this would usually be followed by the screaming of various obscenities followed by a torrid fit of crying. When we were younger, this scene would invariably scare TigerCat and I into crying ourselves. Then all 3 of us would be wailing, my mother holding her injured head, CoorsLight backing slowly towards the door with a beer in his hand and the fear in his eyes (Jesus Christ, no wonder he drank). Nowadays I just laugh when my mom hits her head.

Poetic justice is a motherfucker.

And my head still hurts.

In conclusion: I have become everything that I hate. Next up, I’m going to dye my hair blonde, lose 30 pounds, and elbow cynical bitches in line at the bars. Or just clock them with my Louis Vuitton purse.

ThePeach

Ps – TigerCat used to hate our mom, too. It’s not just me. For example – you know those email surveys/chain letters that people used to send to all their friends? That you would never actually fill out or even really read? Well, 5 years ago my sister sent me one that she had filled out, and I actually read it. This is a direct quote:

Q: What is your least-favourite household chore?
A: Mom. Oh sorry, I thought it said household whore.

And I’d just like to throw this one in for no reason:

Q: What makes you laugh?
A: When people trip. Chinese people.

8 comments:

thehippie said...

remember when we showed up to yoga in similar outfits? purple tops, black pants/shorts and matching headbands (yours pink, mine blue)? wow. that almost rivals our hypothetical matching "no-one's the bitch no-one's the butch" lesbian sailor outfits. almost.

The Peach said...

I still think we should make those sailor suits to let the world know that our love is an equal love built out of mutual respect. And boozing.

Billy said...

I know I can't do the splits, either, but after a couple of drinks...

I've said too much already.

asian cymbals said...

Don't feel bad, Peach. Being a brand whore rocks! Additionally, if you're looking at two different brands of the same thing, the more expensive one is usually better - the higher price says so. This shopping tip makes life easy and efficient.

I happen to trip a lot. Tell TigerCat: for a good time, call Asian Cymbals.

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