It's only a matter of time before I overdose. And by overdose I mean get diagnosed with something like diabetes or high blood pressure or death. Then I'll really have something to be all upset and mopey about.
Last time I got on a scale, maybe a month ago, I was 200lbs. TWO HUNDRED. Folks, this is not a drill. This is not a joke. Jaded is 200lbs of jiggly fat. And it's all settled in her stomach (boooo!) and tits (oh for fuck's sake!) and ass (finally!).
|Booty-licious BUT that stomach, tho!|
I cannot stop eating. It's like a vicious cycle: I eat these bad foods with additives that make me crave more bad foods with more additives and when I stop all I can think of is I NEED MORE BAD FOODS WITH ADDITIVES. I'm thinking about it right now. Right now. I'm imagining crispy fried chicken. Or homemade tortilla chips and guac. A trough of guac. And fries. I want all of it. I NEED
all of it.
|"When's the baby due, Raquel?"|
And I know it's the food that has me too sluggish to go work out, keeping me from focusing on my work, writing or relationships. My finances are struggling. I'm finding it hard to "give a fuck." That's what additives do. They're the drug that makes you not care about anything. And I want to care because look at me. LOOK AT ME! I'M HIDEOUS!! I'M A FUCKING WHALE!!!
|I look like a block of cheese. Gov't cheese.|
I have a plan in place. In my head. Someone come over here and drag me to the gym to execute it, and while you're add it, delete my Seamless account?
This is an official cry for help. Thanks!
*smooches...wondering how long before heart attack*
it runs in my family. I swore I wouldn't be next. but now, who knows?