Self

I am sort of tired of myself. That sounds weird doesn't it? Some might call it discontentment. (is that even a word?) Some might call it malaise. (that's what doctors call it when you don't feel good, but you can't really put your finger on what feels bad). I'm generally content with my body, my self-image, my weight, etc. But for some reason, right now, I am not.

I don't really like this feeling. I can see how having a poor body image can drive you to do stupid things (don't worry, I'm not headed for anything stupid). But in general, I'm tired of myself. I'm tired of my bones not healing. I'm tired of them breaking. I'm tired of my eating habits and my lack of exercise, and the size of my back pockets . . . sounded nicer than butt. I'm tired of not feeling good. Maybe, just maybe, if I would eat better and exercise more, I would feel better. Duh.

I think way too much about what I look like lately, which is not something that has ever been a struggle for me. I mean, don't get me wrong, I like to look cute in my clothes. But it's not ever been something I have really obsessed about. But as evidenced by this blog today, I am apparently obsessing.

You'd think being sick of myself would keep me out of the Oreo bag, but no. And, I have not yet been deterred from fountain cokes, french fries, or nachos. Yesterday, when I was driving home, I was actually thinking about the barbeque potato chips in my pantry. OH MY GOSH! I need a hobby. Or maybe I need a home and a husband.

All that to say, I need someone to tell me to stop eating, start exercising, stop drinking soda, start drinking water, and stop bringing home junk food from the store! Mike, I would not recommend you being the one to tell me though. Oh, and if you happen to have a treadmill you are using as a clothes rack, can I borrow it?