So here we are two months after my public declaration that I was tired of looking like the Stay Puft Marshmallow man and would be immediately embarking on both a diet and an exercise program.
So on Tuesday, feeling like the Marshmallow Man's gluttonous sister, I gathered up my courage and stepped on the scale. I knew it wasn't going to be good news, since lately I've been eating anything that isn't nailed down. And did I mention that it had been almost a month since I'd been to the gym? On to the scale, drum roll please...
I've gained eight pounds.
On a diet. I've gained eight pounds on a diet.
I don't think it's working.
So here I stand, once again making a public proclamation that this is it. It's time to get serious. The way I'm going I'll be the size of a small European country by Easter. When I saw pictures taken in California I wasn't thrilled. When I couldn't put on my fat pants I wasn't thrilled. But when my scrubs got tight I knew I had to do something. Tight scrubs? How does that work? It's like your bathrobe getting too small. That's a real problem.
I'll be posting my progress on Babes 'R' Us for anyone who needs a good laugh.
Meanwhile, I think the Weight Watchers franchise is safe from my diet plan.
Friday, November 30, 2007
Posted by the rotten correspondent at 12:02 AM