I think I'm Jen Lancaster but without the fashion sense.

I'm reading Jen Lancaster's Such a Pretty Fat: One Narcissist's Quest to Discover if Her Life Makes Her Ass Look Big, or Why Pie is not the Answer for my gym reading (I just finished Howard Dully's My Lobotomy and before that I was reading Esmeralda Santiago's Turkish Lover, with the former being, yes, about lobotomies, and the later being most definitely NOT a romance novel, but I tried to hide the covers of both when first placing them on the treadmill book holder platform thing because I was really afraid someone would think I was reading a romance novel or comment that I'm a weirdo because I was reading about lobotomies - and now with Such a Pretty Fat, I find myself doing the same thing because I fear anyone who looks at the cover as I first place it on the holder thingy will thing: Such a pretty fat? At the gym? What kind of book is that to be reading at a gym?? And why are those undergarments so HUGE? or something like that.) and I realized I have many of the same qualities that Ms. Lancaster has.

Case in point:

• She too was told by her doctor that she needed to lose weight because her health was at stake (although, for my sake, I truly believe her physical condition was (is?) way worse than mine, and I've never been a size 24, which she admits to being in the book).
• She too feels she is too immature to be a home owner and feels she is probably better as a renter because of all those pesky home maintenance things we home (condo) owners must deal with on a daily, weekly, monthly, or annual basis (like changing the heater filter, which I've failed at doing repeatedly, or changing light bulbs that go out, or even dusting...oh wait, that has nothing to do with home ownership, darn).
  
• She too has an ego that rears its head at times, and if I had a dime for each time I was told I have an ego just this year alone, I'd probably have a dollar. There is nothing wrong with some self-confidence.
  
• She too hates public transportation but has to take it.
  
• She too indulges in libations, even though I don't indulge as much as I used to because I'm a MOM now and MOMS do not do such things (tee hee), I can relate to some of her stories where she starts saying really stupid things and then wakes up the next morning wondering what the heck happened and how did her clothes get off? (her husband, and that would be my husband as well).
  
• She too obsesses over really random and strange things and thinks turning off the lights and remaining still is the best way to avoid answering a door.
  

The one big difference between she and I is that I have no interest in expensive labels, although I do admit to watching fashion podcasts that feature famous clothing designers, and maybe, just maybe, if I was a size 2 or 4 or even 6, and I had a bazillion dollars to spend on clothes, I would buy myself some nicer clothes other than those from ON (Old Navy to you, buddy). I also have no interest in designer shoes as I can't get them on my jacked up monkey feet. I don't think going to the salon to get various things done to myself is a great way to spend my free time or my spare money.

So yes, there are some differences.

I also would not wear Lacoste polos or pink clothes.

Nor am I tan or do I think getting a fake bake is a grand idea.

I guess it's how we decide to dress and adorn our fatty mcgoo bodies is the big difference between us, other than that, I feel a weird kinship to her.