Quite literally, what is the point of dieting if the drunk fat me inside is going to make a bacon sandwich at 3am and then my memory is going to make me forget it until now.
My body is conspiring against me in order to make me the ‘World’s Fattest Woman’, and sit in my pyjamas all day watching re-runs of American ‘Wife Swap’
unbelievable how much I would be fine with this.
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