Jesus just cockblocked my lazy day

I took a couple days off, trying to alleviate some work burnout, and put myself on the waitlist for a popular class at my gym tonight. I figured if I got in, that was Jesus telling me to get off my ass and leave the house, and if not, clearly He’d prefer I stay home and watch comedy shows.

They just emailed me that I got in, and godDAMMIT, Jesus! This is why I’m not religious!

Ugh. FINE. I’ll do something “They” claim is good for mental health — fucking hippies tryna thwart the part of my brain that’s perfectly content being fat and depressed, thankyouverymuch. 🙄

Nope. No. This is not what’s going to happen.

I’ve been in a fight with my brain and frankly it’s winning, including skipping the gym all week and a triumphant return to feelings-eating that’s left me no longer able to see the changes in my body exercise had achieved.

But fuck you, Brain — I’m smarter than you. Nice people are delivering me healthy food so I’m prepared for Philly’s forthcoming bullshit snowstorm. So if you insist on staying indoors, that’s fine. But you are gonna drink weird fruit smoothies and do SOME form of exercise and have a goddamn productive day, and you are going to LIKE IT. And tomorrow you’re talking to the therapist.

Asshole.

Yo quiero a fatnap.

“How’s weight loss going?”

“Well, I worked out for 2 hours this morning, then had to WORK for 8, and now it’s 9 p.m. and taco delivery is on its way, and then I’m gonna go collapse in my bed in a fat, torpid, guacamole-infused heap, so…👍🏼👍🏼👍🏼“

“My 600-lb. Lady Gut”

I felt OK about these workout pants when I bought them, but for some reason today I feel like I should wear them while on my own reality show called “My 600 Pound Lady Gut,” so… Yeah, good times! Let’s go to dance class and watch it all jiggle rhythmically!

P.S. I’m QUITE sure my salt & vinegar potato chip lunch and probable dehydration have nothing to do with this. Shut up.

I’m glad you like your women sick, ’cause I just threw up a little…

Woke up to this first OkCupid message, so if you need me, I’ll be taking 47 boiling hot showers trying to get the douche off me.

And then, apparently, joining ALLLLLL the gyms.

“Thin-spiration” doesn’t work on me.

Headline: “Khloe Kardashian’s abs are the inspiration you need to make it to the gym today.” 

Um… no. No, they’re not.

Also? Fuck you. MY abs are the inspiration you need to make dough. So they’re WAY better. 

I looked at the photo, and I still don’t want to go to the gym. I am inspired to go home and make nachos. So there.