Dear Diary,
I just don't think I understand my body anymore. I find that odd. Before I used to think we were in sync. If I did this, my body did that. Granny moves this way, juice reacts that way. Huh? You don't know Grandmama?
Whatever. All I'm saying is that there used to be some predictable outcome and while it wasn't perfect it generally worked. Odds were, if I worked out, I'd almost always lose. Sometimes regardless of what I ate. If I didn't work out, I almost always... Well there I'm not so sure. To tell you the truth this whole f***ing thing seems like a crap shoot. Actually, gambling might explain it better. You can follow all the rules and sometimes you're gonna lose a hand. But if you have the right formula sometimes you'll win a hand or two. At some point you'll even go on a winning streak. But over time the house always wins. Especially if you're just laying around on the couches in that house, eating and watching TV. You have to know when to push away from the table. Especially if there is a cake right in the middle of it. You've got to know when to fold them. Especially if they are the clothes you spent all day washing. You got to know when to walk away and know when to run. It's just too bad I can't do too much running. Huh? Yes, I know my time will come soon enough and I'll get back on track. Oddly enough, I agree with you. You're still an a**hole though. Don't think I don't understand what you're trying to do.
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