Earlier today I opened up pictures from a fashion show my niece was in earlier this year. She looks adorable, as usual, my sister - gorgeous, my hubby - delectable, and me - poofy.
I really wondered what the heck was sticking out the back of my Seven jeans until I realized - THAT'S YOUR ASSSSSSSSSSS!
My shirt was riding up in the back and my jeans were hugging curves where there should be none.
I don't get it.
So what if I enjoy the occasionally rice krispie treat - or entire pan?
So what if a hot-and-ready pizza is usually slurped, dipped, scalped and devoured within ten minutes of purchasing?!
So what if I can empty a six pack in less time than it takes to say "sugar high"?
And so what if I consider food to be the greatest reward next to anything that goes VRRRRRooom and rides on four wheels?
Does that make me a fat ass?
Why, yes, Holly, it does!
Okay - so here we go - I will admit how much I weigh in an attempt to lose the weight through public humiliation. I will go on-line and hang myself out to dry until I lose thirty, um... no... twenty, yes TWENTY pounds!
I'm gonna tell ya...
I weigh - (has been omitted due to shock factor. The author worried that many would pass out on to their computers, spilling their coffee in the process, causing a blackout, wide-spread panicking and looting upon learning the true number of her poundage. So it was removed. For your OWN safety, of course...)! See now that's not THAT much now is it! Okay - dieting here I come!