and that is not fat with a "ph"
In Fibby's case, she might not be so unfortunate to be a little on the obese side if it weren't for the the ridiculously unproportional size of her head compared to her body. It's like somebody photoshopped my cat in real life.
I at least hope this woman's head was photoshopped.
Her gut is already hanging out of her new dress that I got her THE OTHER DAY. She is of course, still beautiful and adorable to me but as her mother I can' t help but notice the effects of her eating habits.. so I've just been trying to hardcore intensively play with her (which is basically just batting a shoe string around for an hour). As for me, I suppose I'll try to either work on my diet or perhaps pick running back up... even if it makes me feel like I should just rip my lungs out and beat them against the ground right then and there.
this expresses the way I feel about running perfectly.. and the love doesn't come in until I'm walking inbetween intervals of death.
I honestly don't believe that anyone genuinely likes running. It's all a big lie. Deep down everyone is thinking "Why the hell am I torturing myself?" with every pace. There is just no way. I recall pondering what I would do if I had to face the ultimatum of running for an hour, an HOUR, to save my first born child's life or something... which now that I think about it an hour of pain is nothing compared to something so important but as I was running my 2 minute intervals I thought the agony would strike me dead before it mattered anyway.
I'm typically the kind of person that completely overreacts in times of suffering though