naming a blog

is a big deal to me especially at 4:57 in the morning...I got inspired by another person's blog People I want to punch in the throat -- so I thought to myself, I'm funny I'm witty why not try and blog...so here goes.

My first name of a blog was Gunt Control -- now I know this is a good name and for you ladies who don the gunt like me...I know this is a good name.  But if this blog goes big and my mom or kids have to comment about it in an article...or worse yet my husband who would break out in a sweat just saying the word gunt...well you know...

Now every time I type the word gunt it turns into hunt...so I have to go back and correct....ahh this blogging is already making me tired.

Ok, so funny in a weird way.  I think that's how people probably describe me, -- oh you know her, she's funny but in a weird way --kinda like the Red Flag commercial on SNL with Kristin Wiig (whom I adore)

So what's with all the gunt talk?  I wonder if I should open up a store called Gunts R Us...or Guntalicious..
because after having 2 kids and 2 c sections I've got a nice one hanging on me.   Now it's not like the some of the ladies who you see at the State Fair or on those terrible cards that are supposed to be funny that have really fat people on them...but it is a Gunt fair and square.  

Gunts really take up to much space, time and worry -- you can work the gunt down and make it smaller by exercise -- which I have done many a time -- but they don't go away -- they just hang on for dear life --

I joked with my OBGYN that she should just do the c-section and tummy tuck at the same time--she sold me a line of crap that you really don't know how your body will be after having the baby -- and how much skin will be left, etc....well I know how my body will be lady -- ruined so just cut some shit off while your down there...I know they do it in hollywood they have got too!   There's no way 6 weeks after baby in all those People magazines that those stars fit back into their regular clothes...

Basically my whole day consists of trying to not think about, rid of or hide the gunt.    Thank God for Old Navy Yoga pants -- they have that nice band across them that keeps you from not hiking your pants up I could live in these -- but I'm not a Yoga instructor nor stay at home mom (no offense) or college student..so  I have to find pants that fit, or cram my body into control top underwear or wear one of those awful control tops -- I don't know which one is worse --- and I've bought a ton of them --  they all suck and they all eventually ride up.  

I dream of taking a hot shower and all the hunt just washes down the drain -- or when working out lifting weights when I twist just the big thing goes flying and splatters all over the wall.  For some reason in these day dreams the hunt is not flesh colored it's yellow -- kinda like the model mold of fat they show you at the gym.   Maybe it  doesn't splatter because it is quite bouncy -- maybe it just hits the wall bounces and morphs into one of those McDonald's characters that were purple (not grimace or ham burglar -- you know those big hairy things with eyes) -- maybe it becomes some kind of character or plush toy pillow named Guntie that every kid now wants -- and Sanrio (Hello Guntie) now markets the hell out of.    Now we're talking...I can see the commercial now -- instead of that song there's a kind of hush all over the world tonight...it would be Guntie dancing out of the Gym to (there's a kind of Gunt...all over the world tonight...)  or Michael Jackson's Don't Stop til you get a Gunt...oh the possibilities are endless.

Of course the name Guntie would have to go through major market research, focus groups, etc.  But I don't think anyone wants a front butt or fupa pillow.

I know, it's funny--but in a weird way.