Telling me the truth every morning wasn't fun enough for your sick & sadistic self... no you had to take it a step further and straight up lie to me.
And not in a holy cow [pun intended], I've lost weight!... no, you couldn't give me that! Instead, you have to tell me some OUTRAGEOUSLY low number that is obviously incorrect.
Like, "hey Kate, this is what you WOULD weigh, if you ever got off of your fat ass and worked out anymore."
I hate you.
I am planning to kill you when I get home and bury you in the dumpster.
Sincerely,
~Katehopeeden
Labels: Being a Chic, death, exercise, I'm a loser, self loathing
