Smug

I get this ridiculous smug feeling whenever I see someone smoking. I think, all smug, “Dumbass, don’t you know how bad that is for you?”

And then I think smugly, “I never even started so I didn’t have to quit.”

I feel similar smugness when I think about alcohol consumption. Whenever I’m at a doctor’s appointment and they ask me how much alcohol I drink, I am so smugly glad that I can answer, all smug-like, “None. I don’t drink at all.”

I’m also smug about spelling and grammar. I see one person in particular who often write ‘haft’ for half. I’d think this was a typo except he’s written it more than once or twice. I’m pretty sure he thinks the word is ‘haft’.

I get especially smug (and thoroughly annoyed) when I see someone write or hear them say something like, “Check out my husband and I’s new business.”

That makes me more crazy than smug. But we’ve hit on that one before.

Imagine if I were naturally thin. I’d be such a smug bitch. I’d see fat people and smugly think, “Why don’t you move more? Why do you eat so much? I’m thin because I work at it.”

God probably made me fat to teach me some humility.

Wait. No.

God did not make me fat.

Cadbury makes me fat. Little Debbie makes me fat. I make me fat by not controlling my eating and making better, smaller choices when I eat.

Huh. Well, at least I can say I’m not smugly perfect. I’m just perfectly smug.

(For the record, I managed to use the word smug or a variation of it thirteen times in a post that only has 262 words, not counting this little post script.)