I’m a moo right now. I won’t step on a scale, there’s really no need. I could lie and say my pants feel tight, but the truth is, I can’t feel much of anything because my pants are cutting off circulation. I’ve been a shut-in for the past few weeks, very rarely leaving the house, and when I have, it’s been to go out and eat. I have a fast approaching deadline and have ignored my waistline and the word restraint.

Between acts, or when I’m stuck on how a certain scene should play out, I check the fridge for an answer. I’ll watch TV, but when I consider exercise, I’ll tell myself there’s no time, I should be writing. A lie. I look in the mirror and think, "I’m in proportion, though. I mean, I still look good." Except while the proportion remains in tact, it’s also expanding, which makes my clothes kinda pissed. Cause they don’t fit.

I watch scenes on TV, happy people showing up in red dresses, tasting appetizers, raising glasses, and all I can think is that if I were invited to a holiday party right now, I wouldn’t go. I’d have nothing to wear. I couldn’t wear a pretty dress. I’d be that self-conscious person, pulling at her dress, standing just so. I don’t like when my thoughts about my weight stop me from doing things. It’s no way to live.

I know what I need to do. I just have to be disciplined enough to do it. I have to change my habits and get back into a healthier mindset. The trouble is figuring out how to satisfy that need I get when the day is over, when I’m still struggling with work, and the only thing I’m looking forward to is something sinful. Like the cookies my neighbor just brought over. Or the cookies I made last night because there wasn’t anything sinful in the house!