I know, I know... I always complain about my weight and don't do shit to fix the problem that tagged along with me during all 22 years, 10 months, and 30 days of existence. I was born fat... 9 pounds and 12 ounces at birth is not an average weight for a newborn baby. See, at least I have the excuse of being born fat. Its written all over my destiny! I swear... I am destined to be fat for the rest of my life. I just want to give up and just accept it already... hmph! I mean, I know that I'm not elephant status, but I am bigger than the average... I acknowledge this fact, but I sure don't want to accept it. I just want to be average for once!
I think its rude to call anyone fat because sometimes, it is beyond one's control. Not everyone's health and body is the same (obviously) and we shouldn't give people shit for being a tad bit heavier than an anorexic aspired model. Yes, I get offended when others are being called fat (unless I don't like the person, then of course I'd encourage the name calling. Bias, I know). You know what pisses me off even more? Is when the skinny broads (no names mentioned) act like they are far better than the rest of the over 90 pounds population. You know what pisses me off even more than that? Is when a sized 3, already skinny biyatch complains that she's fat around people who are bigger than her. What's her freakin' point? If she's trying to fish for a compliment from me, its very unlikely that thats gonna happen. Maybe next time, I'll shove a dinner roll in her mouth (whoever she may be next time) to shut her up. Great idea, Thyda!
Anyway... Sam keeps asking me what I would like for my birthday. I can't think of anything else but a treadmill. I really need to get in shape... or attempt to at least. (The shape, round does not count) I can feel that I am getting even more unhealthy caused by my lack of exercise and carelessness with my food intake. I swear, 80% of my food are junky/fatty foods! I'm horrible, I know! He refuses to get me a treadmill because its a lose/lose situation for him. He thinks that if he was to get me a treadmill, I would backfire and accuse him of thinking that I'm fat. (He knows me so well... because I probably would have.. haha!) I promised that I wouldn't do that to him. Smarty pants said that others are going to think that he thinks I'm fat! LOL! I say, who cares what everyone else thinks? I'll know the truth... hehehe!
So hopefully, I'll have a treadmill to unwrap in a few weeks! :D I just want to work off some jiggle... really... is that too much to ask for? :(
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