I’ve gained weight.
No, this is not going to be a sob story. I do not feel bad for myself, I’m simply stating a fact. How do I know this?
This is where it gets weird, people, so please stop reading if you ever have or ever will have the inclination to judge me.
I can tell because my underwear are just shy of completely covering my ass, thereby inducing a 24/7 wedgie. I’m literally picking my underwear out of my ass all day. Now, don’t get me wrong. I’m fabulously happy with my ass. It is one of the (few) areas in which I have been genetically blessed, and I love my ass in all it’s giant glory. The problem is that I do not have any desire to purchase a brand new underwear wardrobe (actual thing). The answer to my problem is losing weight, probably somewhere between one and two pounds.
To accomplish this, I will be attempting to wake up tomorrow morning and go running.
Now, lets pause here, dear friends. You did not read the previous sentence incorrectly. I did, in fact, say IN THE MORNING. Formatting added to increase visibility and plausibility. Yes, this is still the same Hillary you know (and possibly love). I have not lost my mind or suffered through a dramatic life event. I am still the same girl that is non-functional before 10am (12pm if hungover).
But I’m going to do it. Honestly, there is no reason I can’t. I don’t have to be at work until 9:30am on Mondays, so its ridiculous that this will even be difficult for me. Because IT WILL BE DIFFICULT. I pity any person that I happen to pass while running tomorrow morning for the horrible scowl I know I will wear on my face for the entire duration.
I write this because I can’t sleep, possibly due to the anxiety triggered by the 8 alarms I now have set on my phone. It’s like my brain is attempting to sabotage me. BRAIN, NO. I’M DOING THIS. FUCK YOU (love you).
Wish me luck, dear friends. This shall be a very interesting event.