I've heard people say that the definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results. If this is the case, then I ought to be sitting in a corner somewhere, drooling all over myself, and banging my head against a wall. Because apparently? I am f*cking nuts.
I went to back Weight Watchers this morning. AGAIN. And OH.MY.LORD.IN.HEAVEN. This time? I really did some damage, people.
I should have known that I was going to be in BIG TROUBLE. Because lately? My clothes fit like crap...especially my underwear.
I've noticed that I've been walking around with a lot more wedgies than ever.
(And FYI? Nobody thinks it's SEX-AY when you're walking around the mall pulling your granny panties out of your butt crack. Just sayin.)
Oh, hell. And for that matter, not only is one of my butt cheeks always hanging out of my undies, but I've also noticed that the elastic waistband? Yeah...It keeps rolling over and disappearing!
Wow! It's magic!
No, it isn't, Sally...you dumbass.
The weight of your stomach rolls is making it disappear. Nice.
Anyfreakinwho, in the last two months, I gained SEVEN pounds. Wha? Wha? Wha? WHAT??
You heard me, Loser (that's me...talking to myself in the car after my WW meeting)! I SAID SEVEN EFFIN POUNDS!
So, what the frig am I going to do about it?
I'll tell you what I'm going to do about it, gah-damn it! I'm going to work this program, reunite with that bastard, George Clooney (No...not THAT WAY, you perv! Click here to learn more about my love/hate relationship with George!), and take control of my ass size!
Because if I don't?
It wont be long before IT needs its own zip code. Seriously.
OPERATION ASS SHRINKAGE BEGINS NOW.