My new best friend is (hopefully) Mr Skipping Rope. Yes, i have crumbled under the intense pressure of facing the nubile, lithe bodies, merrily gyrating away in the school grounds.

Shit them.

Those freaks of nature.

Who am i kidding... that's just fucking jealous talk.

The holidays sure have left their mark on me. My clothes don't fit right. My belly juts out. It's just about to get bigger then my breasts. My butt's trying to escape from my pants. My underarm jingle-jangle is wiggling in all its glory. My face makes me look like i'm suffering from cushing's syndrome. Good gosh, the world looks bleak - and that's because my body fat's blocking the sun. I have become a human eclipse making machine.

Ok. I over exagerate. Sometimes. But this time, i'm really squeezing into my clothes. My pants now feel like i'm putting on socks.

I blame myself, letting gluttony take control, over and over again. 3 main meals plus incessant snacking does not equal healthy. Neither is trying to brainwash myself into thinking breathing is a form of rigourous exercise.

I'm cutting down of carbs.

Cutting down on sweet drinks (except milo - it's an addiction i can't say no to).

Cutting down on snacks.. half share Calbee please, only 1 after eight mints, ice cream/gelato once a week, cookies on hold =(

And upping my intake of fiber, protein and adding some exercise in.

My first try was utterly pathetic. After 5 measely minutes of skipping rope, i found myself wheezing like status asthmaticus. I nearly fainted. Imagine that. My smoke filled lungs have never worked this hard.

I will perservere. I must. My thunder thighs have seen their end days.

Armageddon to you, fat cells! Die Die Die!!