Dieting stinks sometimes. Trust me.

Hey. It's me.

I'm still doing my best to eat healthy, walk an hour a day
and generally treat my body as a temple. Even though my body
looks like it could seat 100. Easily.

I was doing great. Down another five pounds since the last time
I wrote a blog. Then, I go to weigh in this morning and I'm up
the five pounds I dropped, basically overnight. I chalked it up
to water weight gain and went along with my day.

Then, I realized what that really means. Aunt Flo is coming.
And she's like any pain in the ass visitor who brings everything
in her closet and puts her feet up for the whole danged week
while you run around cooking her her favorite fatty snacks and
sugary treats. By the time the week she stays is over, you're
ready to drop kick her all the way back where she came
from. I don't need her luggage in my closets, I've got more
than enough baggage for the both of us in my trunk.

I've got news for that bitch, Aunt Flo. I'm not cooking her
any calorie laden treats. I'm not making any special trips to
the grocery store for her favorite ice cream or that one
brand of kettle chips. She can stay and be comfortable but
I won't appease her excess weight or mood-induced cravings.
Screw that.

I have a point.

Yes, being a woman stinks sometimes. And "dieting" stinks even
more when you're raging because Aunt Flo's come over again and
made it danged near impossible to go on with your life as planned.
But, I won't let her own my body and my common sense. I have not
caved. And I don't plan on it. I can't promise that I won't eat my
weight in SF jello, but that's a heck of a lot better than a whole
gallon of full fat ice cream and a bag of chips in one sitting.

Check in with me next week and ask me how it went. Who was left
standing after I kicked Aunt Flo's butt to the curb.

Put your money on me. I fight to the death.