S-a-t-u-r-d-a-y, Hey!

(You have no idea how long it took me to write that title properly. Getting those little dashes between each letter takes skill).

I’m not sure why I feel the need to write about the pathetic moments of my life, but that’s the plan for the post today. Talking with M last night and giving him the details of my Saturday night, he suggested that I just write about my life. Forget meaningful posts about organ donation or bullying – no no, he thinks that reading about my life would make others feel much better about themselves. In his own words, my life would “be like one giant FML.”

“What’s that mean?” My Mom called out.

I effectively ignored the question, as I still can’t bring myself to intentionally swear around my parents.

“What’s FML mean?!” And then, “Oh, never mind, I know what it means.”

M was quick to point out that our mother didn’t rush to my defense and, instead, just laughed.

Can’t say I blame her. She was there on Saturday night. She saw me.

Let me explain.

See, I do a lot during the week. I work. I go to the gym. I participate in boot camp. (You’d think I’d be a lot skinnier). I don’t get a lot of time to watch my favourite shows or read books that I keep meaning to read (and party. That, too).

I spent Saturday night at home. With my parents. I didn’t really talk to them, but we were all home. We had a delicious dinner together. I went out and bought wine (I had a craving – you understand). I didn’t plan to drink it all. Really, I didn’t. It’s just that I was bored and it tasted so good.

I decided to get caught up on my TV shows, the first being The Biggest Loser. Great show.

I sat on my bed with my glass of wine and settled in to watch these amazing people on their journey to weight loss.

By the end of the first commercial, my wine glass was empty. Time to fill ‘er up!

Second glass. The contestants were competing or something. I don’t know. One of the new contestants didn’t give herself immunity, causing me to exclaim, “What?! Oh, dumb move.” I looked around for agreement. Oh, right. No one else is with me.

Second glass half empty. Another contestant is talking about how worthless she feels. I start to cry. Take another sip (okay, gulp) for fortification. Nod my head along with Jillian as she tells the contestant that she IS worthy of everything that she has and that it isn’t her fault that her son died of cancer. I also state, to said contestant, that she had nothing to do with him getting cancer. I felt as though the contestant could really hear me, you know?

Third glass. Something funny happens. I laugh hysterically and almost spill my drink.

Third glass gone abruptly. I run downstairs to fill up and tell my mom that I have a crush on contestant Mark. She asks if there is a way to get in contact with him. I don’t know but think it’s an amazing idea. Fill up a fourth (and last, but only because the bottle’s empty) glass. Stumble back upstairs.

Between these glasses, I’ve also started drunk texting my friends. Tell one about my crush on Mark and also that I think I might be black. Send five texts to every one of his. Eventually, I stop getting responses from people. Doesn’t stop me from texting, unfortunately.

I go on Facebook and search for contestant Mark, and think of how nice it would be to send him a message on his Wall. For a bottle of wine later, I write a rather coherent post: “You’re my favourite Biggest Loser! I’m rooting for you!”

I actually did get a message back. He said, “Thanks! Just working hard!” Or something.

I was expecting him to tell me how pretty I was and ask me for my phone number.

Whatever, though. Totally fine.

Hugs and kisses,

Bella