Dear Diary,
I almost let go. I thought I couldn't take things anymore. My weight gain had me down and my face had a frown, so I had a drink and fell asleep. You bastards almost had me. I wasn't feeling it last night. If I was gonna miss my goal, I was gonna do it in style. An icy hot super slide down the chubby pole. Uh. Yeah I see that too. Didn't mean it like that. Let's try again. I was going out in a blaze of glory. No. Not Blades of Glory, but that was a good flick. I tried reverse psychology on myself, but quite honestly confused... myself. So I got up and hit the bike. Twenty miles and some time on the weight bench. I feel guilt if I don't get my workout in. Plus I had to do it. Yesterday I admitted to myself that I was hooked on granola. It was a big step. No exaggeration, I could not love a human baby more than I love this bag of granola. As I continued to pile that s**t into my mouth, I felt the guilt and the sugary taste. It may have been part of the reason for the recent increase. It's hard to stay mentally strong when you know you're f***ing up. Hey! Calm down. I know this is like a gift to you to hear me admit fault, but f*** you as usual. I totally want to cut off your skin and wear it to my birthday... It's coming up... It'll be like your gift to me. It'll cheer me up. Thanks b***h.
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