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March 11, 2001

My thighs are really really gross.  They're hideous.  Absolutely hideous.  And I could take spin classes from here to Connecticut and I don't think it'd help.  I mean, this is what they look like after I've lost seven pounds.  Where's the weight coming off from?  Come on, it's total cottage cheese land back there.  If that's not weight screaming to come off, where's it coming from?  I think my fingers are getting thinner, my rings keep spinning around and around.  Oh yeah, THAT's why I went on the diet.  To get slimmer fingers.  Dumbass.  You can not live in L.A. and have thighs like these.  Well, you can, but you can't show them in public.  Check out this waitress.  (I pretended I was taking a picture of someone behind her.)

 

Can you believe that?  That is so unfair!  She's just a WAITRESS!  She's not even an actress, a model, or a miserable restaurant hostess like me.  (There is, of course, the separate issue of her visible ass line, but whatever.)  This is why you're not finding me at the beach.  This is why the lights are always off on the blue moon that I happen to find myself in a room with a guy without my clothes.  This is why I don't wear miniskirts.  This is why I don't wear skirts in general.  This is why I don't do porn, ha ha ha.