All I really want is Cheetos...or How I got fat.

I weighed 305 pounds when I delivered my bouncing baby boy exactly 7 years ago.

I really wish I could say that I'm 9 feet tall so that it wouldn't be quite so bad.  Sadly, I'm only 5'9.

I got fat when I was pregnant with twins.  I gained 120 pounds in that pregnancy.  I gained an entire tiny fit woman.  The spoon rarely left my mouth...and after the twins were born did not change that.  21 months later the baby was here...completing my trifecta of insanity.

The spoon and I were REAL close at this point.

These monsters were worth every ounce...just wish I didn't take eating for 2 quite so seriously...

I have always been a fast food kinda girl...my heart belongs to jack in the box, popeyes, taco cabana, and last but certainly not least Chick-Fil-A.

I can eat a whole bag of Cheetos in a sitting, if I'm sad I can eat that whole bag of cheetos and then go to dinner and pretend that whole cheetos therapy session never happened.  I can polish off a bag of mini reeses if things get really ugly.  Candy...cheaper than booze.

I maintained a very sexy 278 lbs until May 13, 2008.  The day my world stopped.  The day my husband, my baby daddy, the center of my world died very suddenly.  Like in a fine one minute, thought he pulled a muscle so went to the er, dead 6 hours later.  Class, can we say tailspin?

I decided that maybe I should attempt to pull myself together so the crazy train pictured above is not orphaned anytime soon.  So here I am at a svele 230 pounds.

Stuck.  Hangry(urban dictionary) that I'm cleansing while my kids have a piece of birthday cake.  Tomorrow I attempt to run(HA...more like bounce awkwardly) 5 miles.  Britney Spears don't fail me now!