I like to pretend that at the beginning of each new week, I have again a new opportunity to eat better and work out more than the last week. This being Sunday and all I get a clean slate, which negates all the naughty fat kid stuff I did the last seven days. Oh internet, I was such a naughty girl last week, hell, last month! I don't know why but I find comfort in the fact that as I sit in front of the T.V. Saturday night stuffing my face with pizza (a personal fat chick fav btw...) that all of this will mean nothing as I fully plan on eating nothing but a granola bar and a handful of grapes tomorrow. That should set the balance right, right? What a sick and twisted world I live in! Seriously, how on earth did I end up fat? (Note the heavy sarcasm)
I blame my mirrors somewhat too. For whatever reason I don't look that fat in them...It is not until I catch a glimpse of myself in a window as I pass, or see myself in photos that I truly gasp "Eek! Is that me? I AM fat!!" Then my whole day is ruined, whole fucking day. Then I go home and gorge myself on the pity cookies I just bought, to make the bad feelings go away. Then I go look into my mirror and tell myself "It's not that bad, see?" Warm fuzzies are back, and the day is bright again.
But all of this is beside the point (I'm really good at going of into random tangents folks). Today is Sunday, and after a bad, naughty week, I'm promising myself, no fast food, no late night pizza parties pour une, no sneaking into my son's animal cookies for a sugar fix, and certainly I'm going to the gym more than once! Hell maybe I'll go three times! Down girl, baby steps, remember....Yea Sunday!!