Ran eight miles on the treadmill last night while watching “the Biggest Loser.”
Woke up this morning and saw my poundage had dropped.
Ate a chocolate chocolate chip muffin as a reward.
Is it possible to both love and hate yourself?
Because I loved every bite of that muffin this morning, but hate that my legs have felt like jelly since 9pm last night.
Weight maintenance is a god damn joke.
I’m both too strong and too weak to use the word, “maintain.”
I always go too extreme in everything I do.
Bipolar disorder for calories, that’s me.