I was taking one of my many daily trips to the bathroom/copier/printer/water cooler today and stopped dead in my tracks and became quite perplexed. Now this is a path I take regularly, it's quite simple really; turn right out of cube, right at corner go straight till door, usually I make this trip like a champion. This time however trouble, in the form of a chair, stopped me right in my tracks. Now usually a chair would be something that would stand in my way of water domination, but this was an unusual chair. On this chair was a sign that said "Do not move me, I belong here!" Well that's the trouble, I'm a sucker for following posted sign (a few like "do not enter" and "Danger" are signs I just don't ignore) so you could imagine my qualm with moving the chair to get through. After a moment or two's pause I decided the best plan, of course, would to be turn around and find a completely different path... after I did this as an after thought perhaps that isn't the smart plan... it's a chair for goodness sake... it's really quite a shame that's always the afterthought.
Hi my name is Michelle and I have a very unhealthy relationship with food and dieting and the small amount of fat that resides on my mid section. There is something empowering and depressing about this all at once. It's empowering because I recognize it and I can sometimes remember it and control my brain, but it's depressing because I'm sure it's something that will only be fixed by therapy and time and I don't want to put in the work. Also, as a MO it's really one of the few vices I get... and really there are worse vices. As some of you know I was in the running to be on a infomercial. With it came food delivered to my door (no eating out of the box!) and 6 day a week, butt kicking bootcamp classes. The food was pretty yummy (although left me very hungry) and I really enjoyed the bootcamp after the first week of being so sore I could barely move. But then things started going wrong. First, it was HARD to stay on track when people around me were e...
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