Me and Maxhole the Dog need to lose some weight. I sat down the other day and felt something land with a soft thud on my upper thigh. My stomach decided that it was no longer a slave to the waistband of my jeans so it flopped right over and molested my leg. Maxhole sat down in front of me and I realized he looked like a little fat kid sitting there with his stomach pooching out. I only called him a fatty to his face when he gave me Dog Judgmental Eyes while I ate half a can of chocolate frosting. In my defense, it was dark chocolate frosting so I was being good to my heart. And I was too damn lazy to make an actual cake to put the frosting on.
I put on weight and then take it off. I got really sick last winter and lost a lot of weight. About 30-35 pounds. And then I got better and started to put the weigh back on. I’m not into dieting. I’d rather just eat healthy and when I do eat junk food I try to limit it. Except when there are cookies around. I sabotage myself. My brain says “You know, you ate one cookie so you’ve already thrown this whole eating healthy thing out the window. You might as well get a couple more cookies and a handful of Ruffles.”
Years ago I was talking with two co-workers who said they’d give up a year of their lives just to be thin. Instead of living to be 75 they’d rather shave off a year and be thin. That is so fucked up. It was so fucked up I think I went and ate some cookies just to recover from the shock of so much stupid.
So I need to lose weight. Maxhole needs to lose some weight. I love food and I tend to eat my feelings (because self-loathing tastes so good when you pile cake on it). When Maxhole looks up at me with those brown eyes our will-power goes out the window and we eat half a block of Colby Jack cheese. I’m reading this aloud to Maxhole and he said “What’s this “we” shit? You got a mouse in your pocket? I don’t need to lose any weight. I’m curvaceous.”
Yeah and I’m a real redhead.
I don’t have any doubts that I can lose the weight once I really set my phasers to stun. What the hell does that mean? It sounded good in my head but looks all kinds of crazy on paper.
Of for Christ’s sake. Maxhole’s stomach is starting to drag on the floor.
I need a donut to cope with this. I’ll put some shredded carrots on top of it.