Days till LA: 10
No, I'm not talking about finally coming to terms with my body in one of those Lifetime Channel-esque moments in which I fling my bra out the window, triumphantly pull on my skinny jeans, and run outside in the rain with my fists pumping in the air, declaring that I don't care if I'm a size 22 or a size 2, because I am an empowered woman, now hear me roar.
We all know I'm vain and I already like my body.
What I'm talking about here is a deep, dark, shameful secret; one that I've held out announcing till the last possible minute, because it's taken a lot of retrospection, a lot of working through my emotions and feelings, and a lot of debating over whether or not I'm ready to take this leap, but at long last... I am.
I like Grey's Anatomy.
No, I'm not talking about finally coming to terms with my body in one of those Lifetime Channel-esque moments in which I fling my bra out the window, triumphantly pull on my skinny jeans, and run outside in the rain with my fists pumping in the air, declaring that I don't care if I'm a size 22 or a size 2, because I am an empowered woman, now hear me roar.
We all know I'm vain and I already like my body.
What I'm talking about here is a deep, dark, shameful secret; one that I've held out announcing till the last possible minute, because it's taken a lot of retrospection, a lot of working through my emotions and feelings, and a lot of debating over whether or not I'm ready to take this leap, but at long last... I am.
I like Grey's Anatomy.
Pardon our witty quipsI promised myself that I would never, ever like this show. Every time I watched it, it made me want to vomit copious amounts of bile; I wanted to throttle Meredith Grey, and castrate McDreamy for being stupid enough to fall for her crazy shtick; I wanted to punch Izzie in the face and laugh triumphantly over it; I was afraid of Sandra Oh.
But then I watched one more episode, and then of course it had to be the bear attack one, and then the next thing I knew, I had gone into a Grey's Anatomy blackout, and suddenly I was watching episodes - nay, entire seasons - online, and I couldn't stop myself. And then I watched the rest of the season, and I realized I'd hit rock bottom last night when I was getting teary eyed over the finale, and shouting in triumph when just about every pairing I wanted to see started sucking face at the end of the episode. And even when - Spoilers! - Meredith did the tackiest thing in the world and 'built' the McDreamy house out of candles... I found my poor little heart twisting in joy, and wanted to bawl like a baby when they finally decided to get back together and send Rose packing.
And then this morning, I realized I was unable to look at myself in the mirror. It's like I'm a meth addict, but rather than looking in the mirror and seeing my teeth falling out and my skin all sallow and pock marked, I'll see myself all googly-eyed and hopeful, ready to dash out into the spring morning and find my one true love.
I think it's a good thing that Becca gets here today, and that Jen is taking us out to Margaritas for, fittingly, Mexican food and their signature margaritas. I need all the alcohol I can get, so I can get back to my dry, self-depreciating, "no-one-ever-loves-like-that" cynical self. God help me.
But then I watched one more episode, and then of course it had to be the bear attack one, and then the next thing I knew, I had gone into a Grey's Anatomy blackout, and suddenly I was watching episodes - nay, entire seasons - online, and I couldn't stop myself. And then I watched the rest of the season, and I realized I'd hit rock bottom last night when I was getting teary eyed over the finale, and shouting in triumph when just about every pairing I wanted to see started sucking face at the end of the episode. And even when - Spoilers! - Meredith did the tackiest thing in the world and 'built' the McDreamy house out of candles... I found my poor little heart twisting in joy, and wanted to bawl like a baby when they finally decided to get back together and send Rose packing.
And then this morning, I realized I was unable to look at myself in the mirror. It's like I'm a meth addict, but rather than looking in the mirror and seeing my teeth falling out and my skin all sallow and pock marked, I'll see myself all googly-eyed and hopeful, ready to dash out into the spring morning and find my one true love.
I think it's a good thing that Becca gets here today, and that Jen is taking us out to Margaritas for, fittingly, Mexican food and their signature margaritas. I need all the alcohol I can get, so I can get back to my dry, self-depreciating, "no-one-ever-loves-like-that" cynical self. God help me.
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