This is day 53 of dieting and I finally fell off the wagon. I was doing so well up until this point. There have been frustrating times. Times when it would have been easy to bury my stress beneath a mound of flap jacks or in a giant bowl of chow mein. Times when I could have given into the siren song of humus or the cold indulgence of ice cream. I've stared awkwardly at fruit. I've dreamt of chocolate lava cakes. But I had persevered until this evening. And I have—or used to have, rather—twenty seven pounds to show for it. Cumulative Weight Loss: No one's perfect. I get that. It's just how I fell off the wagon that bothers me. I was pushed off by this guy: "Little Caesar!? Really? The creepy little purveyor of bad pizza?" I know. What can I say? He got me. I didn't intend for it to happen. I can't believe it myself. I've had so many opportunities to cheat. So many better alternatives than ...
Clippings and thoughts I'd rather not mulch