Dear Diary,
Not too long ago, I would be looking at 225 as some sort of victory and not an utter failure. Huh? What the f*** does this have to do with dry cows? I said utter, not udder you stupid mudder fudder. Now get off your bulls**t, so I can get back to mine. And no, 225 is not a failure, but at this point its a reality. Another reality is that I should be inching closer to 215 at the moment, but because I have this little thing going on, I can't exercise the way I want to. I did something a tad too strenuous yesterday and I'm feeling the ill effects right now. No, it has nothing to do with the burrito or the sweet potato pie. Now the weight does, but not the pain in my neck. And to keep the pain in my neck from radiating and becoming a pain in my a** (please note I give you no reason to question your job security), I'm gonna stay in the bed today and give this recovery the attention it deserves. I'll deal with the weight later...
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