Healthy Living, or I Sexy-Danced for My Cat


I hate New Years Resolutions because I think that every day, not just January 1, presents an opportunity for change, but I think I’ve accidentally made one…

I’m going to lose weight. How much is my own business, and I share enough of my life on here as it is, but it’s really important to me that I lose it. I want to be healthy, feel better, get active, eat well. And…judging by how much pizza I ate last semester alone, this change is a little overdue. But better late than never, I guess! Plus…as much as I’m always yelling “love your body no matter what!” I want to feel sexy again, and it’s hard to do that when most of your clothes don’t fit. I suppose I could go all Lady Godiva on everyone, but I don’t particularly feel like getting arrested.

I’ve been back in my apartment for the last two days, and since then have been cooking for every meal, juicing, and exercising. Plus, I’ve had so much water that half of my life seems to be spent in the bathroom. Again, I share too much of my life on this blog. But I feel really good! A little more energetic and excited for the future. Y’all know how much I love to cook — the more complicated the recipe, the better — so this is fun for me.

The weather was gorgeous yesterday, so I went on a run around my neighborhood, past my old apartment. I bumped into an old friend — the little tiny kitty cat that lived upstairs — and she ran up to me for a cuddle. If every run involves snuggling tiny cats, I’ll lose this weight in no time.

But the weather changed today. It’s been so cold in my apartment that I checked at least 5 times to make sure the heater was actually working. There’s fog outside my window — so much that I can’t see outside. And so, with no other option but to stay inside and die slowly, I decided to work out and generate some body heat…and my sister had just given me a Zumba DVD.

Zumba is ridiculous. I probably burned more calories laughing at the instructors and myself than I burned from the actual workout. I kept yelling, “I CAN’T SALSA WHAT IS HAPPENING” while my cat stood under my feet and only just escaped being trampled at least three times. He retreated to his cat castle while I did this weird dance move that involved more shimmying than was really appropriate and I’m pretty sure I learned to booty-pop.

So I guess today’s lesson is…if you want to lose weight and you need to keep warm, you can always sexily dance for your cat.

xo

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Merry Christmas, Plebeians


We were going for “romantic” but Mickey’s rockstar heart just can’t be tamed.

Dear Friends,

Well, 2013 sure did fly by — like me, on my private jet, flying off to Morocco. I have, once again, had an amazing year that was probably much more exciting than yours.

As you probably read in the tabloids, my new lover Mickey and I were swept up in a whirlwind romance that culminated in him proposing atop the Eiffel Tower a few months ago. As we prepare for our lavish wedding in the Bahamas, we wanted to make sure we kept you up to date with our lives, since you will definitely not be getting an invite to the wedding. It’s very exclusive, and you’re just…not exclusive material.

When my latest book, Welcome to Paradise: A Memoir of Fame, Glory and Striking Beauty hit the shelves earlier this year, I was hailed by critics as “clearly having a better life than anyone else on the planet” and “a perfect example of why other people should just sit down and stop trying, since Cappy is so much better than anyone else ever could be.” Obviously, the book wasn’t as popular as I’d hoped (is a Pulitzer really too much to ask for?), but those reviews were rather sweet.

I travelled the world on yet another exhausting book tour over the summer. Asia was particularly difficult because, wherever I went, fans wanted photos with me. It must’ve been my gorgeous face, long legs and blonde hair that really made them love me. Well, that and the fact that I inspire awe wherever I go.

I dyed my gorgeous locks pink for charity earlier this month, and have been offered several modeling gigs since. I guess I just have “the look” now (who am I kidding — I’ve always had the look). I’ve turned them all down, of course, because with my hectic schedule and amazing love life I just don’t have the time. Besides, I wouldn’t want to make the other models jealous of my natural, raw talent.

Mickey has been trying to relax lately. After his recent tour of North America with his rock band, The Cat’s Meow, he came home to our New York apartment and slept for a week. When he woke up, we started a strict sushi diet — all that fish oil is really very good for the hair, you know — and have been lounging around and opening our Christmas presents from our adoring fans.

We love you. Without you, we’d have no one to brag to about our important lives. We expect amazing things in 2014 and hope you stay healthy for another year so you’re around to hear us brag about our accomplishments in the next Christmas letter.

xo

We love you!

We love you!

I Miss My Snugglemuffin (This Is Why I’m Single)


So we have these things called sleeping porches in sorority houses. No, I don’t sleep outside on a porch, though lately it feels that way. They’re rooms that we sleep in on bunk beds…sort of like in the army. Or prison. And in my house, there’s no insulation. So this morning, I woke up to what felt like sub-zero temperatures (though it probably was about…I dunno, 40 degrees? 50? It’s really cold) and had to shuffle out of bed, all stiff and sad with a frozen nose and whatnot.

It’s hard. Not hard like “I never am warm and also I’m starving and poor” hard, cuz that’s obviously a lot harder than this will ever be. But it’s hard to sleep properly when you literally have to wear a hat to bed to stop the heat escaping through your ears.

Only two weeks. Then I move out and live in an apartment. I’m excited.

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Sure, chubs, have a seat between me and my homework.

But what I most wanted to write about it this: I miss my cat, y’all. He slept in my bed almost the whole time I was home for break. This was my life: snuggle with cat, watch Dr. Who, snuggle with cat some more, realize cat is soooo photogenic and take 10 pictures of cat, take 5 pictures of self with cat, realize he’s cuter by himself, Instagram said pictures of cat, snuggle cat more because who’s a pretty boy?, have lunch with best friend/girlfriend Chloe, go home and watch Shahs of Sunset with Chloe, snuggle cat, cat loves Chloe, go to dinner with Chloe (because food is always on our minds), come home and snuggle with cat.

Basically, guys, I can’t get to sleep because Mickey isn’t laying on my feet as I drift into dreamland. He’d lay across both my feet and purr so violently that it was like a mini foot massage. I miss that. I miss my snugglemuffin.

Help.

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He’s pretty cute. Sometimes he poses like a weirdo.

Home


No feeling matches this
stirring in my bed, expecting to be at school
then opening my eyes and…home.
Where every moment feels slowed down
a bubbled sanctuary from the world
as nothing touches me but softness —
the hugs of my mother
the quilt of my youth
the cat sitting on my face.