I am so over Kate Moss

Eating disorders are so early '90s. This was the era of Kate Moss and a pre-Ally McBeal Calista Flockhart engaging us in "Secret Life of Mary Margaret: Portrait of a Bulimic." I myself was so bored of the idea of bingeing, purging and eating and that is why I had a big butt and no boyfriends. But whatevs, I got over it.

Flash forward fifteen years, and I'm now a "woman with curves." And by "woman with curves" I mean I have some "junk in my trunk." Still an A cup, people. But again, whatevs, I'm okay with it.

So I thought.

Ugh, today I made the mistake of going to the laundromat which in itself is not bad. You never know what kind of cute boys you are going to see! Although usually I'm wearing an old t-shirt that says "FBI-Fabulous Body Inside" which would be slutty and suggestive if I was not also wearing the one pair of clean plaid pajama pants I had left.

So tonight I go to House of Sudz, throw in a few loads, take them out of the washer, put them in the dryer, and then they are nice and dry so I go to fold them.

Yeah! I'm almost done!

That's when I make the mistake of turning my head to the tv! At first I was excited--it's 10:00 pm Sunday and time for Denise Richards: It's Complicated. Woohoo!

But unfortunately, my laundromat does not get cable and instead I am stuck watching Miss Universe.

Jerry Springer is the host, go figure.

"Miss Venezuela, 19, Maria Ortiz!" (Sexy tan girl walks out in a sexy little bikini)

"Miss Czech Republic, Karolina Kova, 21!"

Another hot girl marches out. And another. And another.

All as I am folding my jeans that are going to be a little tight for the first, oh 10days I wear them! Actually--till I lose the 15 (or more) pounds I've gained since I bought them!

I hate that I care. I hate that I am almost, ugh, 29, and I am hatin' on my body. So cliche!

This whole post is a cry for help!

And then I'm done folding so I leave with my granny cart chock full of clean clothes, tight jeans and baggy t-shirts and my fave black pencil skirt that makes me feel all hot with the way that it showcases the junk in my trunk, and I am thankful for black boys who appreciate this and white boys who are jumping on the (roomy) bandwagon, and I'm okay.

Woohoo! Self Esteem forevs!

Plus I'll make it home on time for "Living Lohan." Life is good.