Gellin' Like a Felon

I'm sitting here at my desk at work.

I'm supposed to be working on things for overtime, but my brain is so far gone that I can't keep track of anything. Then again, it's been like that all day.

Maybe it's been the little chocolatey sugar pills I've been popping all day?

Um.

Nah.

Couldn't be.

Anywho, I wanted to check in and comment about something that I should probably be too embarassed to post.

Since that's never stopped me before, I don't see why it should stop me now.

So I was sitting here at my desk, minding my own business, and, for whatever reason, I put my curled up fist-hands on my hips (yes, I put my hands on my hips at work, while sitting. Can we move on?), and, do you know what I discovered?

Squish.

And jiggle.

Not just a little bit of squish and jiggle, mind you. But a lot more squish and jiggle than I feel comfortable with.

I keep pushing on my hips, now, because it's a familiar feeling, and I'm trying to figure it out so I can describe it to you.

Yes, I know. I'm fat.

Not a newsflash.

But it's not that long ago when I had a fairly decent amount of muscle, too.

If you'd felt my thighs when I worked for the agency before this one, you'd have understood.

Um.

I had very strong thighs.

Now? Not so much.

I have to say that I will be very thankful when I get to a place where I no longer have stress to eat.

I know, I know. It's more than that. It's way more than that.

But that's definitely a start.

And maybe then I'd spend less time sabotaging myself and then getting frustrated that I'm not losing weight.

Maybe.

PS:

1. I feel like the whole world is holding it's breath. But it might just be me.

2. It's 20 minutes to 5 and my coworker is eating again.