Thirty Three

Weelll I am sick still. I feel pretty bad today so I guess I’ll go to the doctor sometime this week. Booooooooo. Well yesterday continued to be good, when I got to work Moma said she’s gonna give me spaghetti and meat balls when I was off. I only had a bite, but it was delicious. The cook who made my spaghetti told me I had beautiful eyes, and all awkwardness aside it was still nice, and one the servers kept calling me skinny. So I felt pretty good at work. But then after work and after a few unwanted reactions/conversation about our BMI’s, immediately brought me back down to reality. The reality that 17 pounds is a good amount of weight to lose, but if you’re still fat after you lose it you might as well have not lost any weight at all. Unless you look amazing, people pretty much don’t care about your weight loss. It was nice to feel good for a few hours, but I have a long way to go still and that’s pretty much all that matters to other people. *SIGH. Ohhh wellll. The best part about being a BAMF is that I can handle and come back from anything. I also always know that whatever I’m going through is not the hardest thing I have ever done. I know that’s a popular expression for people who have lost weight, “This was the hardest thing I have ever done/the hardest I’ve ever worked.”, but one of the few advantages of having a terrible childhood and still turning out as a BAMF is that nothing can really compare. SOOOO I’m pretty confident that whatever I do I’ll kick it’s ass. And I am pretty much am. With that said, I have to go do some serious dirty dish ass kicking. Bye y’all.

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