You've Got the Swagga' of a Champion

I should fucking write for Cosmo. Here is the first article I'm submitting to them in the parallel universe where both they publish entire articles devoted to sarcasm and where I want my first publication to be hidden below an article on Taylor Swift:

THE TOP THREE BEST DIETS FOR YOUR WAISTLINE--THE WORST FOR YOUR SOUL
(None requires a gym membership!)

Note: I either will or have tried all methods described.

#3: The "My Best Friend's a Histrionic Bitch That Has to Be Skinnier Than Me" Diet



Requirements:
 -- a mean 13 year-old girl
 -- Britney Spears' 3rd album
 -- CD player

This one's a little slow to start. Combine that with the bitter hatred that will engulf your being and this one comes in at a solid #3. However, it's really not that hard to come by; histrionic bitches are always looking for friends and you can probably find Britney's self-titled album "Britney" at any CDs Plus (track 12 is my favorite--written and produced by JT).

Results: slow, but lasting.
Repercussions: Back pain, freezing shoulders, and a rough case of misogyny.
Damage done to soul: Moderate

#2: The "The Guy I'm "Dating" is Homeless and Unemployed" Diet



Obviously, I'm trying to keep the standards for companionship at a doable level for any Cosmo afficionado. I don't know what type of crowd you hang with.

Requirements:
--1 Homeless Man
--Mild Temperament

 This diet is simple and super cheap!

Steps:

1. Find homeless man.
2. Keep him under your constant supervision.
3. Do not eat in front of him; that'd just be rude.

Results: staggeringly quick; however, they deteriorate rapidly without stringent upkeep.
Repercussions: Loss of healthy metabolism, constant need to do laundry
Damage done to soul: Moderate - High

#1. The "I Went to a Third World Country and Drank the Water" Diet



Requirements:
--Plane Ticket
--Toilet
--Third World Country™ water

Results: Still pending
Damage done to soul: Mild
Repercussions: Self-hate for being a mere mortal with a properly functioning digestive system.

HONORABLE MENTION:

The "My Food Talks to Me But I'm Good Looking So It's Okay" Diet

Ohmigod, Becky, you are, like, so pulchritudinous.

I am a part of all that I have met;
Yet all experience is an arch wherethro'
Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades
For ever and for ever when I move.
How dull it is to pause, to make an end,
To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use!
As tho' to breathe were life.
Life piled on life
Were all too little, and of one to me
Little remains: but every hour is saved
From that eternal silence, something more,
A bringer of new things...
           -- Alfred Lord Tennyson,  from 'Ulysses'




Afoot and lighthearted I take to the open road,
Healthy, free, the world before me,
The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose.
From this hour, freedom!
From this hour I ordain myself loos'd of limits and imaginary lines,
Going where I list, my own master, total and absolute,
Listening to others, and considering well what they say,
Pausing, searching, receiving, contemplating,
Gently, but with undeniable will, divesting myself of the hold that would hold me.
           --Walt Whitman, from 'Song of the Open Road'


 I'm moving across the globe in a matter of weeks. I have too many thoughts (many ridiculous and/or contradictory) on the matter to decide which ones deserve writing; however, one of my relatives had one that could be emblazened on a plaque: "You never got knocked up in high school or college--you deserve this!"

Amen.