Just when I am getting a little confidence, just when I feel a hint of self esteem coming back, the universe finds a way to punch me in the face like I am Tina Turner at a marriage retreat. I was doing so well today. I was feeling good, went to Zumba, danced my ass off, and decided to treat myself to a healthy lunch at Subway with my friend Melissa (which by the way Subway, I am waiting on my royalty checks from all this publicity I give you, don't be stingy). Coming straight from Zumba we are looking like a hot mess, still sweaty and not a stitch of makeup to be found but still feeling good from the endorphins. And just then while standing in line deciding if we should splurge on the cookies or not, we hear someone come up behind us. Suddenly we both turn around and what do our eyes behold? SuperModel Nikki Taylor.
My Subway Nightmare.
We both stared at her in disbelief just as a gentle breeze blew her hair away from her flawless face (which I now realize was the air conditioner, but still) and the sunlight coming through the window made a golden halo shimmering from behind. Melissa turned to me and said, "You have got to be kidding me right now." To which I just shook my head and replied, "God is a cruel and discriminative god. And he hates us."
Just then the Subway cashier looked at us and asked, "How many cookies did you girls want?"
And like two bitter, deflated fat kids; we both looked at her and said in unison, "All of them."