Sorry internet, but I don’t see the big hoo-har about Beyoncé.
When I say I don’t like pizza, I don’t mean I don’t like pizza. I mean I don’t like commitment.
Unless you pull a Mary Kate and Ashley, and put literally everything in your parents’ fridge that you took without asking on top of a perfectly good cheese pizza during a bullshit sleepover with your creepy ass friends, you’re probably going to love your pizza.
Pizza doesn’t acknowledge the love handles you so despise, nor does it point out the fact that you no longer wear a size 4. Pizza loves you for who you are, and you love Pizza for what it is.
Self-hatred is like chemotherapy. It always feels terrible, and in the wrong dose, it can destroy you from the inside, cause you too much pain to move, and can even kill you.
But the right dosage of it can absolutely save your life.
SPONSORED Let’s face it. We all love pizza. But there are pizza lovers and there are the pizza lovers. The ones who have pizza boxes stacked from floor to ceiling.
There are many factors to consider: Who the sex is with. Where and what is involved in the sex. What pizza place did you get the pizza from? Are there toppings?
If you’re having a hard time, people want to help out. Even if you are celebrating a special occasion, people want to join in.
Because we think it’s cool to be different, we embraced the weird stares from fellow tourists and got down with our cheesy poses. Then we ate pizza and drank lots of wine. Or was it the other way around?
So even though our long-term selves may wants abs, our short-term selves want pizza.