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Glutton : 03.02.03 @ 9:03 pm My mother just spent the past ten minutes lecturing me because I ate one fucking granola bar. Man. If you don't want me to eat the granola bar, don't put it in the cupboard. Don't not buy other semi healthy snacks that I'd be willing to eat (no apples?! no carrots?!). Along the less healthy subject of eating... we get to take home the marked out pastries (can't sell them, they're old). I uh took too much. I wanted to put some back, but it was too late, the damage was done. Of course, I will spend the next three hours agonizing over the fact that my co-workers probably think I'm a pig. I won't be able to enjoy my blueberry muffins (even though they are so eff'n good) without thinking about how I was a glutton and took too much, even though my family will be eating most of them. I probably won't take home any marked out pastries for a month or so, in order to secretly make up for that. Yea. I don't get how my mind works either. It's funny. I don't eat as much when I work because the more active I am the less hungry I am, yet what I do eat isn't healthy (muffins, cookies, twislers, Fraps, Lattes...) so it's probably not doing that much good. What good is eating healthy for the rest of the day and walking the ten (+) minutes to work if I eat the above mentioned things? (If you knew how many calories were in a Carmel Frap, you'd never want another one...) Yes. So Amy is a gluttonous fatty pig that needs to start doing my little work outs again. Of course, this involves getting up an extra twenty minutes earlier (5:10 am) and we both know that won't last long. /A If you're a lesbian or bisexual and haven't joined the lesbian mafia yet, what the hell are you waiting for? While you're at it, join the diaryland ring too.
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