My dad likes to bake.

Unfortunately, he's very good.

I eat Pecan Pie.

I eat Red Velvet Cake.

I eat Sugar Cookies.

I eat Chocolate Walnut Brownies.

I eat Pumpkin Pie.

I don't even like Pumpkin!

OR Brownies OR Red Velvet!

Sugar Cookies are the lamer version of Chocolate Chip and come on, who thought of Pecan + Pie??

But I don't have the right to be patronizing.

I. Eat. EVERYTHING.

So dad. Please. STOP BRINGING HOME SWEETS!

I can feel my ass expanding just *looking* at all the things you bring home.

When I refuse to eat something you've made, please don't look so hurt. It doesn't mean that I love you any less.

It just means that I'm trying to delay the inevitable part where I *do* gorge myself on your fattening (and oh so delicious) food.

I repeatedly tell you all this.

For some reason you never take me seriously no matter how many times I repeat myself.

The truth is, I should seriously be obese right now.

I swear, the only reason I'm not is because I inherited ridiculously skinny genes from family who were (and are) literally stick thin.

At my age my mom could wrap her hands around her waist.

At my age my dad weighed 130 lbs at 5'10".

My grandmother could model if it wasn't for her age.

My grandfather looks like a rail.

Oh, I forgot to mention that they all still eat whatever and whenever the heck they want.

Oh my God, why can't I do the same damn thing??

Day 20

104.6 lbs. Yeah, I know, I'm a total fatass who should be confined to a solitary room until I stop taking up so much space.

I can't believe how much of a lazy slob I am. I *still* haven't gone to the gym and haven't even gotten a DDR workout in.

I've only eaten one meal today and don't plan on eating again. I am FINALLY going back to my apartment tomorrow and oh, let me tell you, I am going to be relentless in getting back to 99.

There will be no stopping me.

I just need to get a hold of myself until then.

Note to self: Stop fucking eating. IT DOESN'T MAKE YOU HAPPY.