My weigh in sucked, but I knew it would. And I didn't really care. Pizza, frosting, allergies, Divorce Court, Cheezits, who the f*ck am I trying to kid. The way I see it. I probably gained 4 lbs last week (when I stayed home for work and skipped weigh in) and lost 2 while I was trying to get it all under control this week. I am totally zen about the whole thing, really! Really, really!
Then I get back to work and fire up the weight tracker. Sweet! A line graph for my fat azz. Whatever. I type in my 2.2+ and it tells me "Maybe it's time to get active, make time to take a walk with a friend."
Um, get active? I have been in forced INACTIVITY due to injury which was sustained from a 10 mile run followed up by a 2 hour yoga class. Get active, bitch? I'll tell you about gettin active muthaf*cka. I am going to get a big ass needle shoved in my knee so I can run two 10ks this month. And you tell me to get active?
Needless to say, I have turned off the "motivational comments" portion of my tracker.
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