So That's Why She Called it "Fat Dancer" ...

SO I'm finally getting around to the reason I created this blog. Part of it was for the purpose of basic venting, and part of it was because when I kept a diary my mother routinely read it, so I figured - why not? - put it out where the whole world can read it, even if the whole world could care less. I'm not worried, because I have a habit of keeping myself entertained. This is just one method of many. (Also, I've had writer's block for like, 4 years now. The blog, it seems to be helping.)

Anyway, I'm finally tired of eating for a family of six. Long story short, I'm going back on the "eating for one person or less" wagon starting Saturday. It's no freakin' fun being a fat person, let me tell you. I'm tired of my knees hurting, I'm tired of buying bigger and bigger clothes. I'm tired of putting myself into a food coma every time I'm bored or depressed or aggravated. I'm tired of looking forward to lunch as the highlight of the day.

I'm back in school, getting a Bachelor's degree and having an experience I never thought I'd have. I'm looking for my own place (and if you hear of anything in the New York area in a non-scary neighborhood for $1100 or less, feel free to comment here) and I'm bringing my cats along for the ride.

The object of the game is to be a "Fat Dancer" no longer. (Who am I kidding ... I don't dance anymore. I get winded!)