Dear Diary,
I'm hurting. I finished with most of my work in the family room yesterday. Just need to put the finishing touches on it. I was moving all over the place to get things done. Except for when TLO was watching. It never failed. I could be doing pushups or putting planks down or measuring or cutting or dancing. She'd walk in to the room every time I laid out to pick up my cell phone. It never failed. I guess the finished floor was proof that I actually did some work. Enough work to cancel out the last piece of Red Velvet Cheesecake in the fridge. Remind me not to buy one of those things just because anymore. If that's not good enough, maybe the fact that I can't walk can be proof. F***. It's like I was doing squats like crazy. You'd think my arms would hurt from all the damn pushups, but nope. It's the damn legs. I'm not as young as I was anymore. But I'm not as fat either. I can't imagine the pain I'd be in if I hadn't been exercising and losing weight for the last few months. Gotta be grateful for the little things. Huh? That's what she said... Shut the f*** up. I'll be happier when I can include my stomach in the little thing group. Don't you f***in say it! A**hole.
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