I'm sitting here at my trusty eMachine, typing away and playing a game. I type when the ads come on the screen. When the ads go off, I play the game. I'm too cheap to pay into the game.
We are having pizza tonight. The brownies are made and I ate two already.
I am trying to loose weight again for the ten millionth quarddrillionth time. (Spellcheck will go nuts with that sentence. My point is made.)
I gained one pound, which is surprising. I thought it would be more, post birthday weekend.
My plan is to go to my meeting on Tuesday mornings, drink a sweet tea from Mickey D, bake something sweet and eat something I want on Tuesday nights. When Wednesday morning comes, start all over again.
It's pretty freeing so far and a fraction of the guilt. Why does dieting involve so much guilt?
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