Hey, Fat @#$%, Day 5

I feel like one of the Weight Watchers ladies at work.  When they are not busy not eating, they are talking about not eating, like I am doing.  Their leader, Kathy, retired a few years ago, which is a shame, because she was the most vocal (in an “I can’t believe you are still talking” way).  Once, Kathy had explained to the group how she was done with Fiber One bars…”Because they make me gassy, girlfriend.” I always felt good when I would see her go to the ladies room because I knew she would get some relief. 

Kathy answered every sentence with “You know it, girl!”  But she over-annunciated her Rs because I think her tongue was too big for her face. 

“Cheesecake is only 2 points, right, Kathy?” 

“You know it, guRRRL.” 

I miss the WW chicks.  They moved to the other side of the building and I don’t get to hear their banter anymore.  They talk about how shitty their commutes are, points they blew for breakfast, DWTS, saving points for binge drinking, Karaoke nights, and popcorn.  

I haven’t drank alcohol since January 1^st.  My delirium tremens have finally subsided.  I made sure to clear out all the beer in the house before Jonadan ’15 commenced.  We have some Michelob Ultra left from Christmas, but I’ll reserve that in case any Mormon Missionary kids come to my front door.

“What’s this?” 

“It’s like caffeine-free iced tea.  Try it.” 

I still haven’t gotten on my bike trainer yet.  I have been preparing by putting ample amounts of lotion on my legs, each morning, so I don’t quit 10 minutes in because the sweat on my dry skin “makes me all itchy.”

 

Stay flaky

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