Karl Lagerfeld: "You are as Beeeg as a Peeeg."
Ugh! I’ve been slacking all week long. In fact, I haven’t shaved since since last week. My entire face is covered with stubble. Boy I look so fucking rough and hideous. Bin Laden would’ve been so proud of me for channeling my inner taliban. At this point, even smack junkie Pete Doherty looks better than me.
I was supposed to get some highlights and my hair done at 2PM this afternoon with one of my gal pals but I ended up getting out of bed 3 hours late. Don’t ask me why – I already missed far too many appointments this week (including a late lunch session with Mrs. T) because of my fucked up sleeping habits.
I had 9 hours of sleep instead of my usual 4. I got up at 5 in the afternoon all sweaty and freaked out: I had the strangest
dream nightmare EVER… and to think, it’s rare for me to dream. Extremely rare. I’m too old for that dreaming bullshit. Afterall, sleeping is the only time my mere 2 brain cells get to rest. I’m gonna dream WHEN I WANT TO and that’s when I’M AWAKE. You know, foie gras wishes and Chanel haute couture dreams.
Basically I dreamt about going back to my former high school. I went to the crappy gymnasium and saw Uncle Karl there. I said hi like a long-lost friend and he invited a former classmate (who is soo fucking ugly now but back then she had the longest hair ever) and moi to lunch.
Next thing you know, all 3 of us were inside one of my favourite lunch spots in Paris, Brasserie Lipp. I was about to stuff food in my mouth and Uncle Karl said "youuu should be careful on what you eat because you are already as beeeeg as a peeeg, my young one" in his thick Eurotrash accent.
I put my fork down and stared at my plate. After quite some time, he said "don’t look at ze foooood, it’s bad for youuuu. the right way to eeeat is to just look at ze people, drink some evian and inhale ze fume of your food. ze smell of food shouuuld be enough to make you full".
I can’t for the life god remember what happened next cause our maid woke me up. I immediately called my gal pal to apologize for being a flake… she eventually met up with her best friend. My phone ran out of juice and died after a couple of minutes so I went back to my room.
Wearing nothing but a pair of boxers on, I looked at my thighs and pondered what Uncle Karl said in my dream…
"YOU ARE ALREADY AS BEEEG AS A PEEEEG MY YOUNG ONE"
I was going through my clothes because Polo Ralph Lauren is throwing a "black" party tomorrow and I saw my black denim cigarette pants that I got from Chanel 5 months ago in Paris.
Yes, it’s a size 34. French size. If I’m not mistaken (and please correct me if I’m wrong), that’s the smallest size Chanel does… in American terms, it’s a size 0.
In real world terms, it’s supermodel anorexia size… the size BAZILLIONS OF FAT COWS (such as myself) all over the world would fight tooth and nail for… it’s the same size that those bitches on the runway wear. The only difference between me and those models that you see on the runway is the fact that they’re about 10 feet taller than me… oh and they have a vagina. Everything else is considered irrelevant. I don’t care if I have hairy legs at least I’m the same size as them!
Man, I should be fucking crowned as the most delusional son of a bitch on earth. Hahahaha!
I’m soo scared to try those pants on!!! I have a feeling they’re not gonna fit me anymore.
I know you’re gonna bitch at me cause half of the time, all I ever do on this blog is whinge on how fucking fat I am when in reality I’m not, right?
Can I just reiterate that I gained 20 pounds this year?
AND PLEASE… I NEED
MOTIVATION SYMPATHY HERE. DON’T TELL ME I’M ALREADY SKINNY OR WOTSIT.
This is it. This is REALLY it.
From now, going forward, I’m avoiding carbs, sugar, and junk food. No more trips to fast food drive throughs at the gas station at weird hours of the day. I’m going to the court first thing tomorrow morning and request a restraining order against Jollibee and McDonalds.
The Karl Lagerfeld Diet Book is available at Amazon.com for US$12.97. I’m buying it now! That man lost over 80 pounds in less than a year! I figured it would be cheaper to buy that book instead of buying a kilo of crack.
BTW, what do you people know about Caroline D’Amore, who is Paris Hilton’s new BFF? I’m starting to like her… Caroline… not Paris!
Photo credit: www.celebworld.org.
She’s not that pretty but whatever. I think I’m gonna pull a Caroline tomorrow my stripey red Gaultier tank.
More udpates later! I gotta do some shameless self-promotion around the net. Email firstname.lastname@example.org or SMS +63.915.785.1492 and tell me you love me.
I love you all!