Obsession

I had a crazy roommate my freshman year of college who used to wear obsession. She also got mad at me and slammed my arm in the door. Oh, the good old days.

So, somebody has determined that I have become mildly obsessed with a certain number on the scale and I am no longer allowed to weigh myself. Well, at least for a month. Just because I was weighing myself religiously and mildly wigging out over a half pound gained, doesn't mean I have a problem. Whatevs. How am I supposed to know when I gain five pounds. A five pound gain means your clothes still fit. Granted there might be a bit of a strain in the buttons, but they fit. Now I'm supposed to eat healthy and exercise all without any positive feedback. I'm like the rat who makes it through the maze and gets some cheese. Give me my cheese. Or rather don't cause cheese has a lot of calories.

I'm going to need to find something else to obsess over. No scale, no new shoes, oh my, am I not allowed to buy new fabric. Just because I have mounds of things to be made with the current fabric stash does not mean that the next best squishy fabric is around the corner.

I need to go lie down.