This morning, I rubbed my leg for whatever reason and noticed how long it took for my one hand to go from one side of my leg to the other. This obviously set the tone for my day at “zero.”
Honestly, I feel like I could pop at any time. My stomach is so thick and I can’t bend down anymore. Hubby says, “this is the time in your life when you can eat whatever you want and not worry about it.” I reminded him that I was indeed NOT pregnant and there’ll be no baby after this. To which he replied, “and you wanted me to get you ice cream- fat ass.”
I don’t fit into my pants. Tonight I put on a pair of jeans, just because and I think it would have been less harmful to my ego if I streaked through my neighborhood. My stomach is too much in the way that I can no longer do that bend and twerk to get the jeans up and over my ass. So, to soothe my pain I ate the remainder of the entire batch of cookies I made the night before.
Actually, my arms are the size of my thighs…. and I’m wondering, how did this come to be? Because I take a pill that keeps me alive- I have to be fat? One of the side effects is weight gain, but really, the pill isn’t forcing food into my mouth 23 hours a day. The good news is, I’m too depressed to think about the status of my sit because I can no longer fit into my jeans.
I noticed that hubby has been buying my daughter cookie dough- but hiding it in one of the drawers in the fridge. This is the cruelest thing he’s ever done… because he ultimately knows that – that dough not only won’t make it into the oven, but my daughter is too busy watching her tiny ass figure to bother. To his point: no, you WON’T die from salmonella.