6 of ♦s

Lately my clothes have been fitting better and people have told me I look thinner. It’s true, I’m losing weight. But I refuse to weigh myself cause I know unless I see a number I want to see (GOALWEIGHTSTATUS), I’ll basically want to kill myself via death by Nutella/brownies/ice cream. Literally. Like choke on it, or something.

So today, I put on a pair of pants that haven’t fit me in 4 YEARS (h8 that I was 20 4 years ago, feels like it was yesterday). I could get them on, but they were just too tight (i.e. muffin top - never acceptable). I wasn’t expecting them to fit nicely in any way - I assumed there would still be some handles to love, but I knew I could use them as some kind of gage to see where I’m at weight-loss-wise.

BUT GUESS FUCKING WHAT GUYS? THEY FUCKING FIIIITTTT MEEEEEE!!! GLOVE STATUS. These bitches haven’t fit RIGHT since I was a blow-whore of a 20 year old, who consumed nothing but mandarin vodka. CH-CH-CHANGES!

So… yeah. I’d say I’m on my way to perfect-life status. But in the meantime, I’m hitting up BettyCrocker.com to make some treats for the holidayz. That seems pretty contradick to my whole stoked-about-thinness way of life right now, but this is what I do - I BAKE. I DON’T DEPRIVE MYSELF. You only die once, I’m making sure it’s worth it. You can live the life you want AND be happy at the same time. WHO FUCKING KNEW?!

Hey charmed life, nice to meet you, let’s spend some time together.