Welp, I've gained 9lbs, to Elmo's displeasure. He'll deal. I did get a good lecture yesterday about my eating habits and motivation. He's right though. I'm *this* close to saying fuck it all. I still have residue from my October trials. What can I say?
He begins to fish for reasons for my lack of motivation, wanting to know the other reasons for my growing displeasure and reminds me of our open relationship. We can discuss anything, right? Right?!?!?! He leads me to a fairly quiet spot and I finally tell him, "I'm attracted to you." His response: "I had a feeling." Then....nothing. Nigga might as well gon' brush his shoulders off. How can this be all he has to say? Bastard. I waited how many months for that? That's like fuckin but not gettin a nut, just incomplete. He told me to take his hiatus as some time to think over whether or not I'll continue to train with him. I'm straddling the fence on this one. Will I or won't I? Do I really want to be around him? Now that he knows for sure, it just aint fun anymore. I still think he has other preferenes (other than me, apparently) and still don't have the balls to admit it to me. Hmph. Don't Speak has been in heavy rotation.
Since we're on this whole honesty thing, he finally fessed up bout why it took him a full year to stretch me. Come to find out another trainer told him that he shouldn't have some one my size getting up and down off the floor cause it could be potentially embarassing for me. My initial reaction was befuddled, cause for the life of me, I didn't understand why he didn't come to me and ask ME what my preferences are. Why let some outside nigga dicatate what I can and cannot do? There are some fat people that are comfortable in the pudgy casings they live in. I'm one of those people. As I think about it more, the more annoyed I get. Fucker.
In other bizarre news, Couchman hit me up yesterday. For simplicity's sake, Couchman is that nigga that used to live on my couch. Last week he was in the throes of another failed attempt at securing his status symbol, Chez Whitey Krakka Bitch.
A couple of days ago he called me at work. We were talkin bout...oh like like I really know what we were talkin bout. I wasn't payin attention. Oh yeah, I told him he sucks, or something to that effect and he made some off comment bout coming over and finding out blah blah. My response: "I'm not white." I certainly can't be confused with Suzie or Becky. My skin way to brown for that. It looks like my comment got to him a bit and he felt the need to address it on IM yesterday. Allegedly, he's been attracted to me since we met but felt that we'd be better off as friends, for whatever reason. Funny, I couldn't tell. He was too busy chasing after pinks to actually consider me as a potential.
In bizarre fashion news, I saw this pink on the train this morning on my way to work. The weather has been unusually warm for December so folks have lightned up on their heavy winter gear. That's cool but, um, this chick had on a damn winter white WOOL coat with matching scarf...and sandals. The hell wrong with this girl?
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