Oh Cosmo!

Okay, whoa now! Whaaaat?!

So it was a long day. I'd been on my feet for nearly nine hours, I'd had it up to my eyebrows with the Vancouver public (I work part time in a book store), and I was standing in line at the grocery store picking up a few last minute things for dinner. My night to cook, joy of joys. It was not a love day, you feeling me?

I'm biding my time while the guy in front of me is taking ages to drag out his interac card or visa or what-have-you and just bloody pay already so that for the love of god I could get home and sit down -- when I saw an issue of Cosmopolitan on the stand. Now I've never been one to read Cosmo, even when I was in their age demographic, but their headlines have always made me giggle.

It just so happens that "He Who Shall Not Be Named" absolutely love love loves grilled cheese, so I snapped the above pic, texted him from the line-up and asked: 'Is it true?'. I got a prompt reply back saying: 'Yeah, duh.'

We had a little chuckle over it when I got home. I then pulled the pic up to delete it from my phone and I finally noticed the caption above the whole men and grilled cheese thing.

GET THE ASS YOU DESERVE.

Yikes. What does that mean? I felt vaguely threatened. Had Cosmo been spying on me? And for how long? How did they know I'd been scarfing down baking trays full of cookies? I was suddenly very self-conscious and rather defensive. I was like: Hey, I work out I'll have you know. I deserve this ass! Then I found myself spinning around in circles in front of the mirror trying to get a better look at my back end. Perhaps my ass wasn't as great as I'd been imagining it to be. Paranoia started to set in. What the hell, Cosmo? What are you saying about my butt? 

Here's something you should know. I'd been flipping through a new book called How to be Parisian Wherever You Are.

Inside it there was a little blurb about French women and plastic surgery. As I said I was only flipping through it. I'll have to go back and actually read the book to get all the details but it was something about the French and their aversion to plastic surgery because they believe that as you age... you ready?

As you age... you GET THE FACE THAT YOU DESERVE. Ha! So if you're smiling and happy most of the time you're going to have lovely crinkly little laugh lines around your eyes, but if you're a miserable old sour puss, well that's exactly what you're going to look like in your later years.

So now you can imagine the fear that Cosmo struck within my heart as I read that statement about my ass!

I'd opted out of year three of the Tracy Anderson Method, I eat copious amounts of cookies, I certainly never do dance cardio and I do sit around watching television. I have given up the cheese doodles thankfully but it got me thinking... what if there was a karmic butt bank somewhere out there and that all of my bad habits were going to catch up to me and show up on my rear?!? I'd be screwed.

But then another thought occurred to me, better to show up on my ass where I can sit on it and no one will see it, than on my face where there's nowhere to hid. That made me smile as I sat down to dinner with "He Who Shall Not Be Named."

We had grilled cheese by the way.

Have a great day gals and stay away from Cosmo, it'll only stress you out!
xo
Shan