How Depressing...

Uhh...

So I don't own a scale.


I've never owned a scale.
But my mom does, and since I was doing a photoshoot with Rich over at their house (because Veda has the coolest dog kennel ever), I did stop in to weigh myself and was appauled when the number creeped up just 10lbs short of what I used to weigh my Freshman year of High School.

Trust me, that wasn't my fittest time.

So... as I rode back to work on my scooter, tears flying from my face in the wind, I slipped on the most disiplined, motivated hat of all time - because luckily, when I get depressed, I don't reach for a big piece of cake... I just get really pissed off.

I'm pretty much fed up with having fat cow disease.
The fat bus stops right HERE.

So if you want to offer any encouragement (not empty reassurances, because i'm really not fishing, i'm just being blatantly honest... ), make sure I don't give up on the committment in a week or so and send me some "keep your ass moving!" love right here.

Thanks. I appreciate it.


Love,

The "currently" Big Fat Cow.
Big Fat Cow

p.s. mooo.