I feel like a fat, blubbery cow and it's all thanks to summer and possibly my period, I'm not sure yet. I certainly hope so. Do you think I was 72.8 kgs this morning? Do you? Do you really? Well, you'd be bloody wrong. Instead, I was joyfully up to 73.2 kgs. Merry-fucking-Christmas! I want to take a knife and slice this fat blubber right off my fucking stomach and thighs. But that would hurt. Instead I opted to restrict my eating. That went to shit when I ended up eating most of my nephew's sausage roll (well he wasn't eating it! I swear!) at lunch.
Part of me wants to stop weighing until next year and see if I lose anymore weight. But I just know I'm going to go off track if I do that. I'll get all "ooh, I'm not weighing myself, I can give myself a break!" and until I get to 70 kilos, I really don't want to give myself a break. The fucking fat just won't move. I know, I know I should exercise more but it got up to 37c today! That's bloody hot! I could barely muster the energy to get up and get the remote. Hence the reason why we watched a new Simpsons episode rather than an old, funny one.
Oh my god, I have chocolate stains all down my top! I had a *oink!* oh, excuse me, a Drumstick Royale tonight. They're only 226 calories. Youd' think such hot weather would curb my eating, but nooo. I told you about my swimming woes, didn't I? Bloody kids. I should start doing jumping jacks and squats! Yeah, good idea. I'll try that. It's at least a bit of exercise. Plus stomach crunches.
Would the two girls who have me on their buddy lists as I have with them please email me their passwords?! My email is on the left hand side of the screen.
7:33 p.m. - 2003-12-16
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