There must be a light under the bushel!

Particular details that bore me

What started all this detail-minded thought...dieting. How boring. Maybe I do need to be rich after all so that I can have a chef to prepare all my healthy and tasty meals. I don't want to count calories or carbs or fat content. I don't want to exercise 30 minutes a day, 3 days a week. However, I hate chub!

Now, I can make a good plan. I can be sensible for brief periods of time when I concentrate. But, mostly, that just irritates my life. I like to do what I want, when I want, and the way I want to do it. I realize that is very childlike of me; I can absolutley accept that about myself. That doesn't mean I want to clutter my brain with mundane things.

I'm okay with cutting back here and there. I even like doing active things. I simply don't want to follow some plan etched in stone. But, apparently, the age of 30 doesn't care what I want. It's this menacing giant that laughs when I eat Girl Scout cookies. It chuckles when I stop at 4 or 5 instead of eating the whole box. It sneers when I try on 3 different pairs of pants in the morning. Regardless of its mocking, I have to give in to its powerful bullying; the other option is to become just another casualty to pudge!