I worked late, but still managed to get to the supermarket to buy vegetables to start my new healthy eating. I started last week, last Thursday. No crap since then. Except some gourmet yogurt, 4% fat, not that bad.
Last week, I just seemed to get fat, just like that. It's been six, or seven weeks off the cigarettes - last week in July - and my metabolism has surely slowed down. Fuck, I hate that about quitting smoking, the weight gain. Bugger! Everyone says they don't notice, but they must just be being polite, because I can surely feel it. I feel like a whale!
I've got to hit the footpath, jogging or riding. I can't be a fat person, I'll start smoking again, no doubt.
I was listening to this woman bang on about smoking a while ago, she said that not only was she affronted by smokers milling around the entrances to buildings, but she had to put up with the rancid smell of their dirty habits, as she walked up the street.
I thought, Oh die you whining, fucking bitch!
I'd just need to have the excess fat liposucked out and sprayed at her, in retaliation - for being boring as much as anything else. "Shut the fuck up!" Wait until she's mid rant, right in her gob. A mouth full of fat - and not in a good way - could you imagine?
"In ya eye, bitch!" Then I'd tell her I had AIDS, just to see her reaction, just for a knee-slapping laugh.
(I've had 3 glasses of red, it makes me a bit feisty)
Today, I was walking up Bourke Street behind a smoker and thought, Wow man that really fucking stinks.
Funny what a difference 6 weeks can make, hey?
No comments:
Post a Comment