Last week was stressful. I walked miles and miles around the city, drowned my sorrows in salads, and went to sleep hungry. It was all worth it. When I stripped down to my swim suit Friday night, I looked fantastic.
Fast forward to Monday night. After a weekend of non-stop partying, I have actually put on six pounds.
How is that even possible to do on a five foot three frame? I will tell you: hamburgers, chicken, hot dogs, chips, salsa, bread, french fries, hoagies, carrots, Fluff, coffee creamer, Honey Nut Cheerios, pasta, vodka sauce, cheese, english muffins, eggs, fistfulls of sunflower seeds, Funyons, and even more hamburgers.
Also: vodka, tequila, beer, wine, and the wretch-inducing jagermeister.
I need to purge, I know. So I hatched a plan: this week I would go back to business, feasting on lettuce and air. Of course, I had a burrito the size of my head today. I don’t need to be in a swimsuit until Saturday’s pool party. So that buys me one extra day…
Oh, and if there was any question that my body consciousness has made me mad, there shouldn’t be. Losing weight can make a girl bat shit crazy. Consider the bat shit hitting the fan.