Fat Camp.

My throat hurts. I think it's from the window being open. That ain't right, man.

In other news, my friend and I have engaged in a project. Project Fat Camp. She's moved in for at least the next month and our job is to get healthy. Yah, we've still got to do other things (like pay the bills, feed the dog, life in general), but our JOB is to get healthy.

We've joined Weight Watchers (again), done the big shop, and will soon be planning more activity. This morning we were supposed to get up at the butt crack of dawn to go for a short walk. So far I'm the only one up. :/

I'm so frick'n tired right now. And throat-hurty. There's so much that I want to write about, but right now it all just seems so overwhelming. I know what I did last time was really successful, so I feel like I'm trying to do it all at once. Blogging is such a great outlet, but it all wants to come out at the same time, so my head is a jumbled mess.

Got to wake up the house. Fuckers. It's not fair that I'm up this goddamn early and they're dreaming of sugar plums. SUGAR PLUMS ARE FUCKING DELICIOUS!

Quarter Ton.

Holy crap: 251.5 lbs. WHAT?! A quarter of a ton. I'm only 5'3" (and 3/4ths). It ain't right.

Ug, I'm cramping. Have a hematology appointment in an hour. Should leave now in case of traffic. We're supposed to be taking me off of Coumadin and putting me on another blood thinner. I really want to go back on Xenical. That helped before, I think it can help again.

*Edit, 8 months later: evidently I have no idea how many pounds are in a ton (or tonne for that matter) because although it is a lot for my height, 250 lbs is not a quarter of a ton. Pardon my ignorance, but I'm not going to change it because the drama of it is spectacular!

Little cuts.

I want to hide it all. The evidence.

Seeing the fast food cups strewn around my house is like seeing the bullet casings of a drive-by shooting. Death by drive-through.