Let’s Kick Off the Year with Some Insecurity

1. I have approximately 18 million zits on my face. That entirely depends on how many pores my face has, as I’m pretty sure each pore right now constitutes a zit. My face is, without a doubt, I giant talking, walking, whining, crying, puking, zit.


You’re welcome for that image.

2. Also, I’m not popular. No one likes my blog. I know that seems ridiculous, but after obsessively stalking the blogs of my peers and contemporaries and mentors, I’ve realized that I’m just not up to snuff. My writing isn’t funny enough. My punch lines don’t knock you out. My boobs aren’t big enough. I’ll never reach 50 likes on a post just because, let alone 70, or 80, or 100. WHY DO I CARE ABOUT NUMBERS, I CAN’T EVEN COUNT! Whatever. I can’t keep up with how funny everyone else is. I WILL NEVER BE SO FUNNY. JUST KILL ME NOW AND SCATTER MY ASHES IN FRANK.

In all honesty, it’s probably my Youngest Child Syndrome coming through. I NEED MOAR ATTENTION. This is where my internet siblings come and give me a noogie and put me in my place.

3. I’m about 95% sure my right butt cheek is bigger than my left. I know for a FACT that my left chesticle is bigger–I’ve decided that’s because it protects my heart. What the hell does my right butt cheek protect? Maybe a secret pocket of poo that hasn’t come out yet? A large, atomic bomb-sized fart? Is it insulating my sacroiliac joint to make it more difficult to throw out my back? Is it because that’s the cheek that get’s goosed more often, so it has built up a resistance? DO I HAVE A BUTT TUMOR? Oh, god. I’m going to die from a butt tumor in my right cheek. What is happening to me. Someone pet my hair while I vomit into Frank.

4. I make up dumb excuses for everything. I’ve been sitting on my phone (on the left cheek) with the number of someone who interned at The Colbert Report, whose family has connections at the show, and I’m too much of a chicken to call him. Why? Because WHAT IF IT TURNS OUT WELL?! WHAT IF I GET IT?! WHAT IF I DON’T?! WHAT IF I CAN’T SAY ANYTHING INTERESTING?! WHAT DO I DO WITH MY HANDS WHILE I AM ON THE PHONE?! Oh my god, I’m having a panic attack. Someone pet my hair while I vomit into Frank.

5. I am a Fall Back Girl. I’m reading a book about dating unavailable people and how doing so means I’m unavailable, and what I’ve realized is I’m an awful person to date, and I’m going to die alone surrounded by sixty dogs and sixty empty Franks littering the garden, waiting for me to hug them while I vomit into each one at a different time of day. I do this to feed the sixty dogs. I must also be eating a LOT of chocolate chips and mangoes to make this happen. Wait, I can’t even do that. It would kill the dogs. Oh, man. Not only am I a terrible person to date, I’m a terrible future-sixty-dog-owner. I CAN’T DO ANYTHING RIGHT.

6. I have a perpetual wedgie. I blame my butt tumor. Or the fact that I seemingly only wear underwear that is meant to lodge itself firmly against all of my privates and leave the cheeks exposed. I should probably buy new underwear. I would like to own more superhero ones, those fully cover my deranged butt (because, you know, if my butt is exposed whilst fighting crime, everyone will immediately know who I am). But the perpetual wedgie gives Frank easier access to the body part he loves most… And who am I to deny my true love the gratification he so desperately seeks? Frank is an ass-man. It was love at first dump.


These are just today’s insecurities. The more I write about them, the more I realize they are ridiculous, but also true. It’s like I’m staring into the face of the person I love only to realize I’m really only staring into the eyes of a Furby. And I’m terrified of furbies, but also strangely attracted to them. I know they are ridiculous, yet I am also aware that they are occasionally causing my heart rate to rise and my blood pressure to spike. But when I write about them, when I dissect them for my faithful readers, it helps me realize just how obnoxious my brain is, and that, in fact, I’m not as terrible a person as I think I am.

Frank is a lucky, lucky man. I’ve got the runs gotta run.

55 thoughts on “Let’s Kick Off the Year with Some Insecurity

  1. Whit,
    41 more likes to go! Unless WP fucks with you again, and not in a fun way…
    You are funny, smart, witty, and you are my friend… not that I want to indulge you in your self-pity or anything….
    Le Clown

  2. Alright, here’s what you do: Get a full sized mirror. Every time you’re feeling insecure, look at yourself and do the Wonderwoman pose. Feet at shoulder width, fists on hips, stomach in, chest out, shoulders back, chin up and stare off into space as to say, “I’m running this show, now!” I don’t know the science behind it, but it changes the chemicals in your brain to make you feel more empowered. …The more you know (cue shooting star)

  3. Whit,
    As you know, I am also a Whit. I am also a John. Thank you for not puking in me.
    My uncle is a Frank. He’s an ass.
    You’re funny and people want to be you.
    Love from Seattle,

  4. Whit

    Don’t get discouraged. You are funny. Keep it up, I hardly comment on anything because I am a poor judge of anything. That’s my insecurity.

  5. I would just like to register the fact that your writing has far more personality and sparkle than mine could ever aspire to. I give this statement despite an overwhelming regret at having opened your shitting blog, not because I don’t find you funny (you are), but because now I have to add your writing to the list of things that make me envious of other people’s talents.

  6. Tie dyed underwear changed my life. Just throwing that out there. Also I think you broke your record on single post poo references, I am so proud!

  7. I feel so……..disgusted at myself.
    You’re so honest about everything and have a I-don’t-give-a-shit attitude and here I am with that attitude in real life but somehow my blog makes me feel like a sap. Not even like a tree sap cos they have more attitude than me but just
    Oh I dunno
    Now I too, like dgoldinglive, have to add you to a list of writer who are way more talented than me and way more popular and waaay more confident and secure about their insecurities.
    Do they give classes in this stuff? Like how to become a screw-you-world type of blogger??

    Anyway if you wanna see how sappy my blog is check it out
    I for one wouldnt.

    1. Well, don’t feel disgusted. That’s a terrible reaction to have! I’m trying to highlight just how ridiculous our brains can be to ourselves. Don’t add me to a list like that–add me to a list where you use me as inspiration. I have a list of bloggers like 50 long whose talent I want to learn from.

      1. Sorry if that post was offensive – I wasn’t trying to be. Promise. It totally sounded better and snazzier in my head – not as awkward as it read.
        I did mean as inspiration. And I don’t feel disgusted at myself just the writing style I adopted – you know to try and fit in when really I should just be myself.

      2. Lol – yeah i suppose if someone wrote that on my blog I would be too.
        I think it was all that chocolate I ate.
        You know how people get drunk from alcohol, I kinda have that reaction with chocolate.
        I’m trying to cut back.
        So far I’m down to one big bar a day. Eventually it’ll go down to a fun size bar.

      3. This journey started a year ago. So I’m not that great. And every morning starts with Nutella 😀
        On days when my chocolate intake is low my ice cream intake shoots up.
        Oh the woes of life.
        I tried to get a date with Ben & Jerry today but I had to settle for a Carte D’or box instead.
        It’s revision/comfort food.

        Woow I just realised you’ve probably just got up over in the US.
        Im about to have dinner.

  8. God! Butt Tumor? That. Was. Hilarious. You are seriously funny. Love your blog. New follower 🙂

    And you got like 15 response on this post alone, and you say that you are not popular. I don’t even get 1 response on my blog.

    *goes to the corner of the room and cries*

  9. Furbies are on my list of fears– high up on the list by sheer default of how everyone tries to shove one in my face because it seems like something I’d like. And I admit it, they do seem like something I’d like– but… *shudders*. They terrify me.

    What else? Oh yeah, just stop wearing underwear. Life gets easier when you do. And everyone’s “matching body parts” don’t really match. I’ve had every job under the sun… from shoes and jewelry to ear testing and eye ball picture taking– and lemme tell you. Either the right or the left is ALWAYS bigger. And if it’s not bigger, then something else is present just to make you notice how different they are.

    What else? Oh yeah, I’d like this 50 times for you if I could. Promise. 🙂

    1. I’m seriously convinced that they are possessed by the Devil and it is his plan to infiltrate the world through tiny little terrifying robotic monkey-bird things. Eeuuckk.

      You are my new best friend. Let’s hang out all the time on the internets.

    1. I would like to apologize for any offense my blog post seemed to have caused you. It is never my intent to fish for compliments on my blog.

      To counter your point of being desperate for attention–aren’t all bloggers? Isn’t that why we write for the internet, to garner attention from people who would otherwise not know we exist?

      As for fishing for compliments–that is not the point of the post. The point of the post is to highlight the ludicrousness of my anxiety, to walk the reader through an irrational mind in an amusing way.

      I apologize for the confusion.

  10. My left boob is bigger than my right one, too! Twinsies! (I hate myself for typing it as much as you hate me for making you read it). Thank you for the highly entertaining read! I am now going through the rest of your blog like the internet stalker I was raised to be. I hope to be as funny as you one day, but in my own way, because, you know, respect the individual. Byeeeee.

  11. Well it’s happened. I finally met a blogger more insecure than me or I? Meh, grammar police can hunt me down. And of course Le Smug Clown was the one to point you out. Oh and if it helps you, my right calf muscle is bigger than my left which makes wearing boots and some pants stupidly difficult. I also have a very twitchy middle right finger that tends to stick up when the other fingers are relaxed and oddly mostly when I’m around frustrating people…hmm I must investigate that. Back to you, I like.

  12. LOL my left butt cheek is bigger than the right one too!!!! I’m pretty sure my left boob is bigger since i sleep on my right side and have basically stopped its growth 😦 loop-sided body high 5!

  13. How brave of you to be honest about your insecurities. So often we suffer through them alone. I hope that you found relief writing about them. By the way, your blog is great.

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