I know, I know… I am lucky to be alive. L.U.C.K.Y.
I am grateful… I have a new chance at life and I truly am grateful. Now… typically, when someone adds a “but…” it negates all that was stated before. So here I am attempting to make a statement- sans but.
I am so lucky to be alive, thriving, breathing, walking, etc.
I am so fucking fat that it looks like the Macy’s parade squad blew helium into all of my orifices, so my face looks moon-shape, my pants don’t fit- I have to actually use the wall as my support to lift my leg an inch off the ground to put on my jeans that once were spacious; fine, they had some room before. My stomach feels like it could pop and my legs rub together now, just above my knees! I have to walk like the king in Hamilton because otherwise, my legs would ignite from the rubbing.
Hubby asked me if I would rather be nauseated all day, vomiting- then said, I’m sure anyone would trade places with you in a minute!
I just wish weight gain wasn’t the bait.
And don’t tell me to walk or exercise… or just watch what I eat. I told you in another post that hubby hides the “good” food so clearly I’m out.of.control.