If there is one thing that I want more than anything else right now or 89.4% of any given day, it's cake. Cake with good frosting, like the kind you make. The stuff in the can is good for graham crackers, but not cake. Not delicious, crumby cakey cake. Oh cake. The cake need comes once or twice a month, and usually I make a cake or brownies or something, but you should be proud. I've only make a cake-like item (chess bars, which should have been better than they were, but were still cakey enough that I ate more than I should have) this month, and I think that is much to be proud of considering the last 5 months had a birthday, Thanksgiving or Christmas in it, which is a whole lot worse than cake just once, you know? It's like I'm in the negative for cake eating. If I think about it long enough, I'll find some way to figure out that all the past pieces of cake are cancelled out because of this recent stand against cake making.
Writing about how much I like cake is surprisingly not helping the cake craving that I'm trying to ignore.
I begin to see a root of the continual chubbyness.
However, it should be noted that I have worked out three times this week, and tomorrow will be number four. And I've lost a few pounds since starting.
I will say that the prospect of losing weight is a little scary for me. I almost have to not think about the healthier choices I'm making because it stresses me out as much as it does. The reason for the stress is stupid too--if I lose the weight I want to lose, then I have to keep it off. And that seems incredibly intimidating, since I never set out to gain the weight that I did, you know? So what if I become wildly successful on this journey into sweating for the fun of it and then I fail all over again?
Ma would tell me to stop borrowing trouble. Ma would be right, but Ma also ate salt pork every day and her family almost starved to death in the Long Winter, so I think Ma would say that I'm worrying about the wrong things.
Sheesh. What a convoluted post. I blame it on the cake.