It's that time again. Fatty season is in full force. I have rebelled against the system. Given my middle finger to the typical New Year's Resolutions. But now, I must admit defeat and begin.....dieting. (Can you hear my deep sigh, and see my shoulders slumping?)
South Beach...here we go again.
And if we are lucky you will hear glorious tales of skinny me romping the shores of Hawaii in a skimpy bikini. (Apparently I am hoping my stretch marks will miraculously disappear with all the chub)
But most likely, and this is a fair warning, I will be bitching about it for many weeks to come. So when I am on here screaming and whining and begging you all to have mercy and mail me some chocolate....please talk me down.
Perhaps you should threaten to leave me nasty comments beginning with, Dear Lard Ass.... if I don't start exercising.
Ok, February...here I come. But DAMMIT! I am going to have some cake on my birthday in a few weeks. But by then I am sure I will have lost at least 30 lbs. Right?