i feel a little bit like winnie the pooh today, like my head is stuffed full of cotton that has surely molded from the slobber of children that have chewed on my ears. when taken with the facts that i am wearing a red t-shirt that resembles pooh's almost as much as my body type does, that i am hobbling around without balance due to sore calves caused by the fifteen consecutive flights of stairs forced upon my beleagured body by a personal trainer, and that i feel a near constant need to mutter "oh, bother" and eat honey out of a jar with my hands...well, if it thinks like a pooh, and talks like a pooh, and walks like a pooh, and looks like a pooh... it must be me today. i come to this conclusion after determining that i deviate from the pooh standard in two major ways: i lack his consistent good nature AND i'm wearing pants. they might have holes in them, but they are still pants. well, jeans, not pants. really, old, scruffy jeans.
(i just realized, at the ripe age of 24, after watching winnie the pooh for about 20 years or so, that none of the folks living in the hundred acre wood, with the exception of christopher robin, the lone human, wear any pants and that the likely reason for this state of pants-less abandon is that pants imply genetalia to hide, and as far as disney is concerned, while gender can and should exist, genetalia should not. who knew they were so progressive? i shouldn't be surprised. they have gay day after all. yet while i respect their progressive views, i would not want to give up my genetalia or my boyfriend's genetalia, even if it meant that we could walk around in public without pants. it's perfectly satisfactory to let loose with the pants-less-ness in the privacy of one's own home.)
believe it or not, i am thoroughly enjoying my pooh-like bumbling. my head was so full of fluff this morning that i did not care about the fact that my jeans are almost completely destroyed or that my t-shirt is probably inappropriate to wear to work or that my flip flops are four years old (i paid seven bucks for them in 2002 -- best shoe value ever!). why? because i am comfy, dammit, and my feelings of comfi-ness are translating into a very concrete sense of well being. if i knew dressing like a bum and staring off into space while humming "the wonderful thing about tiggers" (the wonderful thing about tiggers, tiggers are wonderful things, they're bouncy, trouncy, flouncy, pouncy, etc. etc.) would be the key to self-actualization, i would have adopted this lifestyle a long time ago. power suits, my ass. screw the yuppie dream! for goddess's sake, read the words of the prophet pooh (or whoever wrote for pooh) and rejoice:
"the sky is perfectly blue/the clouds are perfect too/and here i am with you/what could be more right/a quest has come to an end/and home's around the bend/and here you are my friend/what could be more right/nothing can go wrong/if everything is right/and everything is right somehow/nothing can go wrong/as long as everything is right/and everything is right, right now." (well, except for that i am at work and no one else is here and i have seven hours to go before this song will really be appropriate.)
hmm. i think by now it's obvious that someone has slipped me some kind of fabulous pharmacuetical and i should go have myself checked. or maybe i should just have some breakfast. anybody got any honey? i guess yogurt and a granola bar will have to do. strangely, contemplating my breakfast is starting to cause an eeyore-like response. hopefully i will not begin to take eeyore's physical traits as i have taken on pooh's. i mean, eeyore has a nice ass and all, but would i really want to be a blue donkey with a black mohawk? then again... i could probably get some sick leave from work if that condition were to develop. will you listen to me? since when have i looked on the bright side of things? it looks like pooh's possession of me continues after all. what's next? getting stuck in a rabbit hole with my ass hanging out? lucky for me (and for the rest of you, incidentally), it's (it being my ass) covered in my old blue jeans.
