The problem with dieting is you always have willpower at the wrong time. It’s like after you’re sick and bloated from eating three frosted minis, two hostess cakes and half a tub of cashew pieces you have plenty of willpower to spare.

“For fucks sake I’m never eating food again” you say, and for the next two hours you really feel it. You might even hold out through the next morning because you feel like shit so “hell yeah” you think “I’ve fucking got this! I’m a goddamned dieting MACHINE” but then you get to work an hour and a half later and it’s somebody’s birthday so a big-ass tray of chick-fil-a minis is sitting in the break room.

You hold out for like ten solid seconds before telling yourself you need protein. You KNOW (even though you’re carrying enough fat to get an extended family of Eskimos through a nuclear winter) you NEED the nutrients in those motherfucking chicken minis or you’ll die.

YOU’LL GODDAMN DIE BITCH!! DO YOU REALLY WANT TO DIE?

Of course not.

So naturally you start furiously munching only to come back with twice the willpower when you discover it was hot guy from that other department’s birthday. You discover it because he told you when he walked in on you squirreling away a mini in each cheek rounding out an even half dozen…(you were shooting for the full bakers dozen before you were caugh- had to get to work) because you needed that protein OR YOU WERE GOING TO DIE!

So you get to lunch and tell yourself you’re not gonna fail again. You’re gonna be good. You’re owning this shit from here on owt biznatch! So when you get to the market naturally you buy a fruit and yogurt parfait… but substitute the fruit with chocolate ganache and the yogurt with whipped cream. Fuck hot guy from the other department, you need calcium and antioxidants.

Whatever. Dieting is hard…so you’ve heard. Technically you haven’t been on one yet. But you totally will be after this ‘I had better intentions’ parfait, because another hottie just walked by your car and it reminded you to be on one. Fuck.

So a few hours go by and you decide to go hardcore and eat a single lettuce dressed in the fleeting consideration of vinegar for dinner. Yes. Back on track. Rocking it. ‪#‎winning and shit.

Until 8pm. You Netflix and chill that ice cream right out of its container.

Regret hits immediately. Your resolve has magically reappeared. You start to get sick of its shit. “Fuck you willpower you useless fuck, where were you when I needed you, huh?” you say as you stare into the mirror and punch yourself in the face. Metaphorically.

Then the realization hits.

You had the answer all along.

You don’t have any willpower. You just get full.

After realizing who you are you stop with the perpetual diet of failure and constantly trying to change. Instead expecting people to respect you regardless of how many celery stalks dipped in the dreams of a size zero you do or don’t eat.

Amazingly very little in your life changes. You don’t blow up to a thousand pounds, actually your weight is as stable as ever. You also discover people don’t sit there waiting for you to eat something in front of them so they can point fingers and judge. Turns out most people don’t care at all, or even pay attention.

The biggest change is to your grocery bill, which goes down because you stop buying lettuces and celeries that just wilt in your crisper.

It’s been said that nothing tastes as good as skinny feels, but when skinny feels a hell of a lot like hangry, I sincerely doubt it holds a candle to donuts.

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