It fucking figures. I woke up at 124 cuz I barely ate yesterday which is nice, but now I can’t shit. Every one to two days I can’t shit. So now I’ll skip shitting for a day or two, then I’ll be forced back up to 127. Something just doesn’t want me losing weight and when you diet, you gotta diet for life. You can’t just diet, then reach your goal weight, then go back to eating how you were before. What I’m saying is, if I have the slightest chance in hell of losing weight, it could only be by eating just a bite a day and I don’t know if I want to live like that. It’s too hard.

Tom insisted I could do aerobics and that I should try to follow along as best I could. It’s the motion that’ll tax my heart that’ll cause my metabolism to rise and for me to lose weight. Well, I’ll do the best I can, but he’s wrong. The only way for me to lose weight is to not eat. Especially since I don’t shit out half the stuff I eat. It’s my time to be big, now.

My arms are kind of a different story than my lower body, as with most women. Yup, I’m actually like most women where our arms are stronger than our lower bodies. In just a few days after I began working my arms, I could see/feel a difference.

There’s another way to tell the two Cocoas apart. Not just by how one has a little patch of white on her belly, but one Cocoa is distinctly bigger than the other.

I have Tweety outside now and boy is he singing up a storm. I wish I could say he was annoying our now door-slamming freeloaders, but I know how much they adore noise.

The AC people are coming Monday between 6:30-7:00 AM so I’ll have to finagle them around my schedule, but doing that for one day won’t kill me. I thought it’d be a 5-hour job, but the woman who called to confirm said it’d be closer to 3 hours without any complications.