I Blame Seventeen Magazine

…for my deluded self image.

And what’s the deal with Cosmo? Why is a magazine that is supposed to be about  me comprised of articles that are all about how to make HIM happy?

 I digress.

You should know, as a rule, I don’t even read magazines:

As an additional rule, I also don’t watch The Jersey Shore, but that pervasive pig is everywhere.

Speaking of pigs (this my friends, is what we call a segue), I will crush a bag of Doritos in one sitting. I’ll mow down on ice cream right out of the container. I have a particular affection for Big Macs and I’m unapologetic about pouring myself a tall class of Coke at 11 p.m. I’m drawn to food that is terrible, and I’m not just talking about the occasional soft drink. I’m talking about pasta, pizza and burgers. I’m talking three-cheese dip, homemade chocolate chip cookies and rice crispy squares. Cake, bread and cheese, of all kinds.

I was ‘diagnosed’ with high cholesterol at age 14. This is fairly alarming, but when you’re 14, your heart isn't exactly your top priority. I was just trying to get through one day without tripping over myself, let alone watching what I ate. Besides, I have never been overweight and was an extremely picky child. Even at age 25 when I was once again warned about my cholesterol being “a little too high”, I shrugged it off and probably went and grabbed a funnel cake.

That’s not entirely true. I’ve made several sincere attempts to change my eating habits and habitually sloth-like lifestyle, but it’s always short-lived. And as always, when things get difficult, I give up. Besides, show me someone who would rather climb on a treadmill than into a pair of comfortable sweatpants after work, and I’ll eat my hat.

That being said, my abject inertia has lead me to a point where I am unhappy and uncomfortable. Uncomfortable, but not completely delusional. I don’t look in the mirror and see that woman who is aiming to be the world’s fattest mom staring back at me.

Donna Simpson, the world's fattest mom: http://bit.ly/9xZWnr

I guess what I’m trying to say is this is sincere attempt #287 to live, feel and hopefully write, better.  That’s right—I’m *NERD ALERT* blogging about it. I’ve never blogged before and have long maintained that they are not only a waste of time, but an exercise in desperate self-indulgence.

My blatant hypocrisy aside, maybe writing will be the motivation I’ve been missing. Maybe words will get my ass off the couch and onto the treadmill. Or maybe apathy will once again reign supreme and I’ll find solace in the glorious trans-fatty glow of a delicious KFC Double Down.

That’s…that’s still coming to Canada, right?