I'm sick

What the hell is wrong with me?

After going through my closet yesterday in a desperate search for something that fit from the waist down, I realized that I was left with two - TWO - pair of pants that could be deemed suitable for outside wear. I cursed myself for the rest of the day for letting it get to this point and kicking my ass for not doing something about it sooner. How can I ever hope to feel good about myself when I'm staring at the flab-ulence that's become my waistline?

You think I'd be smart enough to say "enough." Ah, not so... Today, I stupidly recommend DH pick up donuts for the kids that are sleeping over, ("...oh, I'll just have one...") and lose my mind when he calls while out running errands and asks what I want from McDonald's ("can you bring me a Big Mac?")

I'm sick I tell ya'. Sick.