Wednesday, June 13

If I Won, Why Do I Feel Bad?

So. To quote Charlie Sheen: Winning. Today was the first weigh-in, and it seems I’m sort of on the top of the pig pile. Or is it the bottom? Where exactly in the pile do I land if I scrape off slightly more blubber than do my fellow porkies?

Prior to the weigh in, I heard that someone else might have lost a few pounds more than I did. I warned Hubby I’d probably not come in first. His advice: "Offer to take the winner out for a celebratory cupcake!"

Turns out the warning was in vain. In terms of raw poundage, apparently, I’m kind of a loser.

I think I’ll have that engraved on my tombstone: “Kind of a loser.”

This seemed a lot more fun when I was beating only imaginary people. Unfortunately, I rather like the actual people at my gym. Beating them turns out to be not very much fun at all.

Sigh. I think I need a good night's sleep before I vote myself off this island. I'd never make it on a reality television show. I lack the killer instinct.

Perhaps by morning I'll remember why I'm doing this. In the meantime, if someone could send a thug over to the house to slap me sideways and tell me I'm being stupid, I'd appreciate it. Thank you.