It started with my birthday. Hey have some cake its your birthday...Hey have your favorite candy its you birthday...then it was oh...your going to see you ex because your hometown is tiny and everyone knows everyones business...what will calm you nerves? Booze. And flaming hot cheetos.
So yeah, here I am 3 weeks later. And I'm still fat.
Nothing to be proud of. Stinking of bad decisions and little debbies. Time to get it together. The good news? Most of my pants still fit.
And I realized something with the seeing of the ex. It truly is better to be alone and fabulous and free. Most of the things my ex is not. I'm starting to enjoy not being anyone's obligation. And not having any adult obligations of my own. It's the time I need to get to where I want/need to be.
Diabetes is still knocking on my door. The same awful disease that took my husband from me so suddenly. I cannot allow my children to become orphans to diabetes. Yet still this thought does not cross my mind as the zebra cake crosses my lips. Only after, and then its usually just a follow up to the oh crap I hope my skinny jeans still fit. That's right. I am all about the priorities.
So here I am starting over again. I'd like to kick my own ass. Seriously. This time for these faces.
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