I'm still gazing down at the first trimester of my would-be pregnancy stomach but after a few weeks working with my trainer, I still feel good. I feel stronger and I'm happy both for the accountability and the lack of thinking I have to do when I show up. I just do what she tells me to do. She even counts for me. I continue to be distressed over my inability to be even presentable at the gym. Something insane is always happening with my hair or my boobs or both. Still I smile broadly and continue to greet hot guys at the gym. I will not listen to my own good advice on this matter.

Seven days and counting left on the blackpeople-r-us site. Still pulling some decent numbers for a 30 day trial but the thrill is gone. It was nice to get some positive male attention but I'm kind of over it. I'm especially over the guy with the foot fetish who has this picture on his profile.



Oh. And this one.



So yea, that guy kind of freaked me out a little. Maybe even a little more than the fun Polish guy with a bat.

In other news, I'm grateful for girlfriends. I have the best time every time I hang out with these two women. You know when you laugh so much that your throat is all phlegm-y? If she is reading this right now, she's objecting to the word phlegm-y for sure. It just makes me smile to think about them. Makes me feel incredibly lucky. We drank awesome margaritas and ate an obscene amount of chips and salsa and I had a ball. Then my soul twin and I headed to the humor section of the Barnes and Noble and laughed like teenagers for an hour. Our favorite? A book of postcards called breaking bad news with baby animals; e.g. a cute baby duck in a flower bed with the caption "It's syphilis." Had us on the floor.