What happened today:

I became a member of a woman's gym, mostly because my mother didn't want to go alone and she was willing to pay for my membership. They have some good classes, though, as well as stationary bikes and treadmills, and it'll be a great way for me to get exercise and strengthen my lungs once the cold weather sets in again.

My mother relayed to me that my father cannot comprehend why any author would care enough about what I think to link to my book review on their website.*

My mother informed me in a roundabout fashion that it's okay for me to be fat, so long as I don't wear clothes that show off any part of my body.**

I accidentally almost inhaled a small piece of Kleenex and spent the next few minutes gagging and retching by the side of the road in an attempt to breathe again. There went supper...

* And yet, one has. The day after I wrote the review. It's cheap publicity for them, so why wouldn't they link to positive reviews of their work, especially when they're published through small publishing companies that don't have gigantic marketing budgets?

** She pointed out a girl with a build like mine, walking through a parking lot and wearing a sleeve royal blue shirt that looked pretty awesome. My mother said that the reason she joined a gym was because she doesn't want to look like that. "You mean like me?" I asked. She backpedaled and said, "Well, you don't wear shirts like that, and I do, so..." Guess it's good that I don't, since my mother would be thinking about how ugly I was if I did.