This line of this incredibly (pun intended) funny movie popped into my head last night as I was getting into bed.
I’m becoming fluffy.
Not fluffy like my self-described fluffy friends but if I don’t do something quick I’ll be right there with them.
I got up this morning, looked down, and discovered I’m getting one of those bellies. You know, the ones that hang over your pants….until you have to sit down then you wiggle and pull to shove said belly down into the top. I’m cramming my most likely size 9 fat into size 5 jeans because I refuse to buy new ones. This means I’m always uncomfortable until I get home and can put on my fat pants.
I’ve gained so much weight my boobs have gotten bigger, too. I was getting ready for a Pure Romance party Friday night and grabbed a tank and white blouse I hadn’t worn in about a month and BAM!! there were the boobs. I couldn’t button the shirt up like I used to. They were so big I had to send a picture to my friend Kristi who replied, “Holy smokes!”
My old trainer from Powerhouse Gym Downtown Tampa contacted me recently and told me it was time to get off my ass and join her challenge. It technically doesn’t start until November 26th but I’m starting today because I can’t put it off anymore. I’m pulling out the (here it comes) Brazil Butt Lift for the last last last time. I still have my old schedule taped to the wall and will be using it to make myself get past the FAIL days from the last time.
Yes, I know. I’m tired of hearing me talk about finally completing the damn program, too. Last time. Promise. On my mountain top and fat butt.
Time for Fit Bitch and Slacker Fattie to face off once and for all.