I'm not a big person. I'm short, on the petite side, and I don't weigh a whole lot (but definitely don't have abs of steel - big-time sad face over here - and you're about to read why). But I have pretty much no self control when it comes to having tempting foods in my house.
I turn into a self that I simply call The Fat Girl.
I eat ALL of the "bad" food. I mean all of it. It's a threat to my
For example, the other day I ordered pizza (OMG I LOVE pizza!!!). I won't divulge the whole Fatty-McFatterson-pizza-ordering-and-eating-the-moment-it-arrives story just yet but I will tell you that with the leftovers (this is rare!) I had the brilliant, self-control-engaged plan to freeze 2 slices each in freezer bags. The concept being, obviously, that when I wanted pizza I would reheat just the 2 slices (thin crust, light cheese, lotsa veggies...still fatty) and have it with a big salad to make a somewhat balanced meal. Sounds perfect, right?
Well, The Fat Girl is so much smarter than those damn freezer bags. When she got the hankering for pizza tonight after a crap day (totally craptastic run - knee pain, back pain, ankle pain - WTF 33 is NOT that old!?!), she attempted to be reasonable and reheat 2 slices along with a big side of veggies. And then she reheated 2 more. And then she reheated 2 more. And so the story goes until the leftovers were no more. The Fat Girl's sister calls and is all Braggy McShowOffPants about having run 6 miles in 50 minutes. OH yeah! Well I just ate one piece of pizza for each of those miles Biotch (which, hilariously wants to autocorrect to biotech)!
And then I ate the 3 chocolate chip cookies that didn't fit in the gift bag.
Cause that's how The Fat Girl rolls.