I hate diets. I hate it more than I hate Jehovah Witnesses knocking on my door at 8:00 in the morning asking me if I found Jesus. Makes me wonder if they lost him again. Yes, thanks I know Jesus. No, I'm not interested in collecting literature.
What the heck ever possessed people into doing such an idiotic thing? I mean, I could be a serial killer, a pedophile, or worse-an Avon Lady ready to pounce on you.
FUcking diets. Fucking fat.
Now, see the beauty of the internet is of course, that you can't see my fat rolls. I can't show you an old picture of me from when I was fit and fabulous, and you think, oh yea, she's cute.
Little do you know what a strange thing my sweet child has done to my body.
Now I have chichos, which I hate having.
If you don't know what a chicho is, it's just spanglish for fat rolls.
So I have this book-The Diet Cure. I start my fucking diet on monday. Christ. I hate diets.
And then of course, this means, I have to get off my lazy ass and do some exercise.
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