I can't get over how fat I've become, and I don't like it. I don't like it one bit. It endangers my health and makes me feel completely invisible to the opposite sex, which makes me sad.
And yet here it is 11/13 and look how many times I've been to the health club this month (graphic at right).
I have been busy at work, which is great, and makes my customary lunchtime workout impossible. But the club near my house is open nearly 24 hours/day, including weekends, and I could go there. I just haven't.
My lazy approach to my weight is, I think, akin to alcoholism. Just as an alcoholic has to want to quit drinking, I have to want ... REALLY WANT ... to lose weight. And as unhappy as I feel, somehow I haven't reached that spot.
