Or perhaps a before and after picture of my food baby belly? I swear to you I can go from flat stomach to six months pregnant in three minutes flat. It's quite impressive.
Readers mustn't worry; I have no intentions of displaying bikini-clad side by sides on the internet anytime soon. No need for the social networking realm to see the outline of my afternoon pizza party.
I thought New Year's resolutions were only supposed to last until the end of January? It's like everyone's drinking the Kool Aid (or in this case, the powdered diet shakes).
Now I don't mean to be a hypocrite; I quite regularly imbibe on these diet regimens as well. How else could I possibly stay at a reasonable weight and still be a VIP at Pizza Hut? My monthly diet is as follows: one week of hunger and famine followed by a week of over-indulgence and pure happiness. Repeat.
I don't need your tweets or your public fitness diary to inform me how unhealthy I am. I am an educated adult. I know that 24 inch chocolate statues are not good for the body (though I will argue they are amazing for the soul). I know the proper steps to a bikini-ready body include exercise and calorie control, just as I know that too many cheese fries give me a stomach ache. I know that vegetables are nutrient and vitamin rich, yet I also know that milkshakes bring all the boys to the yard.
This is a public plea to stop body-shaming the rest of us. We are so very proud of your flab to fab tummy, and we think it's great your cholesterol is finally in check, but to put this frankly: we don't give a rat's derrière if your pants fit better. Flaunt it on the streets, but please stop congesting my newsfeed. I'd much rather get back to the ugly babies and sloth memes.
If you lost ten pounds, then be proud of yourself. If you shook your toned booty to three hours of workout videos, give yourself a pat on the back. And if you ate a life-size chocolate bunny, then let's be friends.
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