In our office building there is a cantine run by an Italian caterer who is skilled at making everything sound delicious, which indeed it is. Tests my willpower, he does. A few months ago, he hired a young dude (19-20 years old?), a good-looking charmer. This kid clearly enjoys his job, as evidenced by the enthusiasm with which he describes the menu of the day, and makes tailored suggestions to all the clientèle.
On Friday, Charmer pitched his home-made custom pizza as my top choice for lunch. It sounded decadent, as everything with bacon must. I sighed, recognizing defeat. “Yes, fine, I’ll take it. I’m gonna regret this!” Charmer paused as he put my pizza in the oven, completely stumped as to why I’d regret eating something so yummy? I explained: like every woman ever, I am trying to diet, to shed 10.
Diet?! But why? You look great! You could always look better? Well, yes, that’s true, in theory…. but I mean… if you drive every day a Mercedes, are you really gonna be saying “Dammit, if only I was driving a Ferrari”? No, right? A Mercedes is freaking nice car. Enjoy it. Be proud of it. Pretty much everyone would love to drive a Mercedes.
Someone get this boy -almost young enough to be my son – a job in sales, STAT. I’ve been averaging 1 gym workout per month, working too much, haven’t been on a date in months, wouldn’t remember how to flirt if I was presented with all of the opportunities on the planet, spend my weekends sleeping in to offset my sleep deprivation, find the motivation to wear mascara 2 days out of 7, and feel like an unattractive blob… is it obvious I am PMSing?
I ate the entire damn pizza, and had a goofy smile all day.
Behold the newest Vanilla-class Mercedes. #noselfieskills