Dear diary,
It's been a week. So f***ing what. There are still more than three weeks left in this stupid, self imposed challenge. I was asked yesterday if I was on a diet. If I were thinking quick enough I'd have said, "no, not at all. I'm on a liveit." Then I could have blown their mind with my positive thoughts about my major life change and great feelings about it. But to tell the truth I'm just waiting for the time to pass until I am reunited with a steak. Or a carne asada burrito from Isaac's. But yes it feels better to try to eat healthier, knowing that it may slow down or prevent my once inevitable trip to the fat farm. Also knowing that diabetes runs in my family and my fat a** belly makes me a prime candidate to carry on the tradition is motivation to take this seriously. And believe me this feels like a major life change even if this has only been a week. I have this empty feeling inside me even after eating that bomb a** bowl of wonton soup. The yogurt is great but... The organic trail mix and fruit is filling...for about 5 minutes. I can drink water all day long, but I miss the fizz. I need a f***ing steak and some soda. But I need to not die because I'm a fat a** a little bit more. So once again, f*** you diary for depressing me.
PS. Did you know that diary is almost spelled like dairy? I may have to go and investigate some fat free or low fat ice cream to see if it can get me through the lonely nights.
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