Fatty Fatty 2 x 4

So I've decided to go on a diet. Again. In a last ditch effort not to balloon up to 1,600 lbs., I will be eating 1,400 calories a day. Ha. You might as well tape up my mouth and throw me in the shed out back, because me sticking to 1,400 calories a day is ludicrous.

Why do humans have to struggle with their weight anyway? Don't I have enough to worry about, really? Like my cat Jackson knocking the lamp off my computer desk, over and over and over. Like me having $51.02 in the bank until tomorrow. Like me having flat feet and long monkey-like toes. It's all too much to deal with. But I know the diet has to be done. My jeans are starting to look, well, gross. I have this new roll that I've never had before; it plumps over my belt in a gentle rolling mass, and it gets all scrunched up when I sit down. To top it all off I have a navel ring, so it's like a small harpoon hook through the blubber of a whale. Appetizing? You bet!

Now others will tell you that I am not fat at all, others have actually said to me, "You look small, eat something." Hmm, I wish I lived in their Fairytale Land where kittens do not scratch the living shit out of you and rent is free and raw carrots taste good, but I do not. Therefore, I must diet.

Preposterous. Now let me out of this shed and get me some chocolate cake.