I was recently at the gyno's office, and when I stepped on the scale and read the number, I almost shat all over it. I have never been someone to obsess about weight, and it's not like my pants haven't been fitting, but this disturbed me. Mainly, and I am not even joking a little bit, because it meant I had something in common with Tyra Banks.
The hardest part is that I'm trying to wean myself off my drug of choice:
Thanks for that. Now back to the point. In a month or so I hope to be leaner, meaner, and less poisoned. Like I said, I didn't explode out of my jeans or anything, so I expect to still be a size 8 until the end of days. I'm just hoping I can feel better about myself and continue to spew out hateful slurs when Tyra Banks show up on the TV machine, instead of identifying with her fat ass.