Not even a little bit.
When I was younger, about ten years ago I'd say, I remember trying to look into the future and envision what my life would be like. I couldn't. From that, I surmised that I was going to die young. I had that same feeling yesterday. I'm not going to lie, it's a little creepy. Cest la vie.
I don't have much to say. I'm sick. I've been sick for a week. It's a bummer.
Managed to get down to 119 lbs (this was greatly aided in the past week by my illness, FYI). I don't actually remember the last time I weighed 119. Sophomore year of college, perhaps.
I'd be more excited about this if a) I thought there was a snowball's chance in hell I could maintain it and/or b) I thought I looked fabulous. However, I apparently have a magical ability to lose 20 lbs and still look like I'm made entirely out of raw cookie dough. My point being, if I lose weight and still look like poo, I should just get to eat whatever I want because it doesn't matter how much I weigh. Does that make sense?
Well, it does to me.
I don't have much to say. I'm sick. I've been sick for a week. It's a bummer.
Managed to get down to 119 lbs (this was greatly aided in the past week by my illness, FYI). I don't actually remember the last time I weighed 119. Sophomore year of college, perhaps.
I'd be more excited about this if a) I thought there was a snowball's chance in hell I could maintain it and/or b) I thought I looked fabulous. However, I apparently have a magical ability to lose 20 lbs and still look like I'm made entirely out of raw cookie dough. My point being, if I lose weight and still look like poo, I should just get to eat whatever I want because it doesn't matter how much I weigh. Does that make sense?
Well, it does to me.