Day Eight

 I fucking hate this. Haaaaaaaaate. I’m all chipper and shit (as chipper as a sleep deprived, homicidal dieter can be) and everyone else is hung over. I WANT TO BE HUNG OVER! What? Did you expect me to be all smug about this sobriety thing? To be writing about how great I feel, and how awesome this is? And oh my god you should totally try this, you’ll feel amazing. Fuck no! I want my real life back, the life where Saturdays are spent lying on the couch watching a Fantasy Factory marathon and washing down Carne Asada Chips w/Angel Tears and Sundays find me begging for the pounding to just stop for fuck’s sake. Not to mention all the sleeping that happens. Oh sleep, I miss you more than vodka right now.

Remember yesterday when I said I like this point in the detox? Yeah will let’s go back to yesterday and punch me in the face, because today we’ve hit the point where every toxin left is making its angry exit through my face. Why can’t my ankles break out? My ankles will be covered for the next three months at least. Why is it always the skin on your face that goes batshit? How many more days? 10 – 100? It doesn’t humping matter; they’ll all be acne filled misery!

Me: Please let that 5.5 lbs have been real.
Scale: Same as yesterday.
Me: I’ll take it! At least it didn’t go backwards!
Scale: You’ve still got a long way to go pudgy.
Me (yelling): Suck it Ruxin!
WMFS (from the living room): Did you say something, babe?

 The meals:
Blackberries
Chuck’s Chicken Green Chile soup (avoid this, it’s like they work hard to make it extra bland somehow)
Apple w/almond butter
Blackberries
Blackened shrimp in butter lettuce
Mushroom soup
40 gallons of H20

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