Freaking...
I wish imagining myself exercising would be enough. I imagine calories burning, legs toning, fat melting... And it actually happening in reality... (Continue with a Homer Simpson drool/moan).
That would be... glory.
Instead, I like to sit on my pudgy bootay indulging in oreo Mcflurries, pistachio flavored Ice Pan with mochi, falafel, goguma, samgyupssal, buffalo wing flavored pretzel pieces, choco gummies... (Continue with a Homer Simpson drool/moan).
It's like I can feel my pants digging into my hips and thighs, becoming tighter and tighter with each bite, each morsel.
Sick, sick, sick. Ewwwwwwww.
Fat is my pet peeve, I suppose. Fat on me, not so much on other people.
WHERE DID YOU GO, SELF CONTROL?! WHERE ARE YOU HIDING?!!!
I kinda hate chillin' in my living room, now. The treadmill (RAD)... it taunts me. There it sits, behind the couch near the window... there it stares at me with its judgmental eyes. Judging me for not using it when it's RIGHT there, facing the TV, totally available for use.
God, I hate treadmills.
RAD. lol
ReplyDeletei hate RADs too
hahaha RAD
ReplyDeleteI can completely imagine the homer drool/moan.
my RAD did not prepare me for running in the outside world. it was a revolving apparatus of death and deception.. a RADAD.