Someone gifted me with a subscription to Shape Magazine. This has the Internet written all over it. Not literally Because literally it says: blah blah, welcome to Shape. Which I guess still isn’t what it literally says, but you get the gist. When my sister came home from work, I was all: did you send me Shape? And she said: no way, but can you share?
And I skipped right over that and said: Mom’s been gifting me with Oprah for years, but she couldn’t possibly switch to Shape because that is sacrilege.
So, my sister said: It definitely wasn’t Mom.
Meanwhile my Father was pacing back-and-forth through the house due to the fact that there are four adults who live here and all of them were home and we missed the FedEx signature for a package that was addressed to none of us.
I told him it was because the Internet thinks I don’t know that I’m fat and that I’m supposed to learn how to do lunges via a dying format but I already do lunges when I put the leg up to shave in the shower. Which is very infrequent, but I still do it.
My father was all: I HOPE THEY COME BACK! Because he marked FedEx’s arrival on the refrigerator calendar for the 11th making him the Only Person Known to Man that gets pissed when packages arrive one day early. He really doesn’t give a shit about Shape or lunges or, apparently, Oprah, but he does care about FedEx being liars.
Receiving Shape when you’re fat is a little like being pro-life and receiving a Planned Parenthood gift card. So, of course, Cindy Crawford is on the cover this month. I have nothing against Crawford who has a special place in my 90′s girl heart for House of Style, but this thing will definitely be kindling for my Marlboro habit.
If I want to lose a pound, I’ll lose a pound, but no one goes: I need to have better sex let me consult Cosmo. I’m definitely not thinking: last time I looked in the mirror, I saw Cindy Crawford within, I must read Shape to free her.
So, I’m trying to think of gifts you would never want to receive for Christmas. I definitely wouldn’t want to receive Spanx because they’re basically like opening the mailbox and seeing Shape except you actually do get a workout putting them on. No one wants lice for Christmas. Or ever. Satan is lice and lice is Satan. There is no difference. Or a Nickelback CD. Or a pap smear. Which would make the Planned Parenthood gift card incredibly useful, but — yeah — we’re keeping it on the list.