The Plateau is my Bitch.

I broke my plateau. It's lying on the floor clutching its face and crying. Sorry plateau, not in my house.

114. I feel so wonderful right now. But of course I'd feel better at 110 and I did eat a chicken burger tonight so let's fast until Sunday. Because I can. Because nobody notices. They'll probably clue in when my hipbones stat jutting out again and my legs aren't quite so gargantuan. But by then it will be too late. Sorry guys, missed the train I am skinny. Ha.

So aside from my triumph I went for a run this morning and ended up locked out of my house for two hours. And it rained. And I couldn't get into the garage because I don't know the new code. Fun times. I'm sick now. My mum said she's worried about me always getting sick, she wonders why. Here's a clue:

I DON'T EAT.


Mystery fucking solved, Nancy Drew. She also thinks I'm addicted to pain meds. I swear this woman is ten miles south of crazy. I take one advil today and she's up my ass, I skip food for three days straight and nothing. "Be careful with those." Are you kidding me right now? How about "Hey I've noticed that there's never a dinner plate from you on the counter." or "So that Miso Soup you made last week still hasn't been eaten." When shit hits the fan, and it will, I guarantee you she will claim there were no warning signs. Because she's dumb as a stump.

Oh wait, not really because she's caught onto my supposed pain killer addiction.

Suck a lemon for me, kay?