Dear Scale (again),
You thought you could piss me off this morning when you gave me the finger, didn’t you? I bet you thought if you just showed a teensy bit of progress (fucking half pound. screw you) that I’d give up and dive into a bowl of cheese dip and a growler of Diamond Bear Pale Ale. Or possibly a 6 pack of Guinness and a pizza. (mmmm Guinness. I can almost feel the foam on my lips…)
But you see, I have figured you out.
You and my fat ass are in cahoots. Y’all are trying to discourage me so I’ll start eating and drinking the yum again. Aren’t you?
Bastards.
Well, it didn’t work. Nope. I went to the gym this afternoon just to spite you. So there. Fuck you back.
And guess what? After I pick the kid up tonight, I’m going walking again. I had planned to take tonight off, so see? Your little plan backfired.
How do you like me now? And if that bitch number doesn’t go down tomorrow? It’s gonna get worse. Do you hear me?
That is all.
Loathe Love,
Mel
Tags: weight
you’re doing better then me, stress sucks and pop tarts are tasty 😉
I caved and had 2 choc. chip cookies last night. Only two, though…which is huge progress.