When I first got measured for my wedding dress I had lost a significant amount of weight because I was stressed out and honestly ready to end my relationship with Mr. C. I liked my size ( have basically been the same size since high school with less muscle tone the older I get. I miss my track body!). I digress. So now that I am back happy, I have what my friend Farran likes to call, "Happy Weight." I am happy all right. So happy that now I have to lose some of this happy weight. It is only about 5-7 pounds but I am no spring chicken according to my grandmother who, btw has been like the same size forever even after birthing seven kids and was trying to marry me off at 23. Thank God I did not marry who I was dating at 23! McKinney--whomp!
So, seeing as I am the head head cook in the family, they eat what I cook and it looks like salads, beans, tofu and stuff like that for at least the next week. If they don't like it they are more than welcomed to grocery shop, cook the entire dinner, and clean the kitchen all by their lonesome. It is either that or go hungry. I could care less. Can you tell I am cranky and hungry?
I have been taking my generic, orange, powdered fiber drink. I thought water and fiber were supposed to keep me full! These people are liars! humph! See this is why I try to maintain my weight in the first place. Gaining weight and feeling sluggish is selfish to not only me but to those around me. People can say what they want, but for ME, let me stress this for ME, my weight, skin and hair and nails are all reflected in how I feel about myself and my health. I will also say this, as my pasta is overcooking on the stove: many Black women are born with the bodies those of other races long for and are willing to pay thousands of dollars for aka fake, full lips a la Lisa Rinna, Michelle Pfeiffer and probably all the housewives of Orange County, New Jersey or wherever; the big booty a la Serena Williams and Buffy the Body. And slim waists, hips and locs.
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Lisa Rinna |
I am now making a public declaration that I will no longer eat after 7 pm. Mr. C works the graveyard shift so he may just have to get used to nixing our midnight calls.
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