1 of my 105-year-old neighbors: "So, I can see you leaving out my window. You've been going to the gym a lot this month."
neighbor: "when do you think that'll have some kind of effect?"
the answer is never. never ever. i have weighed 202 pounds for weeks and weeks no matter what i do, no matter that i eat cereal instead of food for lunch or track calories or had a salad during wing night or slept 7+ every night last week or have been to the gym 8 times in 10 days. none of it matters. i weigh the same, all of my shit fits the same (ie, it doesn't), i'm not more energetic or stronger or less tired or anything. I might as well have just sat on my ass that entire time and maybe then at least my kis-my-fic fic would be done, instead of having one sex scene and half of an argument written, like I do.
also my knee fucking hurts suddenly. i wasn't even doing anything, i just stood up, to go put gym clothes on, hilariously, and then the whole side of my knee like cramped up or something, idek. I just walked it off, kind of, and then went to the gym anyway, because I went out with my brothers like i do every tuesday and consequently ate some actual food, which either means i go do 500 calories worth of something I hate or else livestrong/myplate tells me that I fail for the day.
tomorrow is department meeting day, which is the meeting where everybody tells me to my face that they hate me and I'm doing it wrong. what i'm actually doing wrong is being the vice president of the latin festival (which might be the only thing in the entire universe i hate more than the gym), because i was supposed to sort judges for it in January and now it is March and the president wants to know how that's going. wow could i ever not give two figs about the fucking latin festival right now. which, ps, is on my birthday this year.