Franchesca or Wanda

I'm done with being completely obsessed with my weight. Done. This battle has been waging between Wanda (my pizza hugging, chocolate munching, sugar shake guzzling persona) and her fabulously skinny/size 0-2 alter-ego, Franchesca (still cogitating on a sexier svelt name) for YEARS now and it has GOT to stop. I'm thoroughly convinced that I am just 1 fad diet away from a Maury Povich intervention. More than anything, I'm afraid this ridiculous obsession will trickle to my little girl. How could I be the positive role model that I hope to be if *I* don't learn to love and accept myself, right?

I'm not even sure how to begin. Some may argue that a visit to the looney bin would be a great start. Baby steps, people. BAY. BEE. STEPS. For now, I'm going to start with focusing on my *ahem* more pleasing physical attributes: my smile, my broad shoulders, smaller waist, my...wrists... Postive outlooks, if you will.

I'm going to ignore the fact that my thighs rub against each other as I saunter about. (POSITIVE OUTLOOK: I'm certain that the heat produced by my thighs rubbing together could substitute as an environmentally friendly power source in place of fossil fuels.)

I will no longer harp about my abnormally plump calves and equally plump-yet-non-hairy (thank God!) man-arms. (POSITIVE OUTLOOK: I'd be a great stand-in for big foot. Aside from those "sightings" in Podunk, Iowa, no one knows what he looks like anyway.)

No need to dwell on the cottage cheese that layers on and around my flabby tummy. (POSITIVE OUTLOOK: Think about all of the money I'll save not needing to buy extra clothes during winter.)

I am doing away with needlessly worrying that my sagging buttocks may potentially harm any small child within 2 feet of my pivoting point. (POSITIVE OUTLOOK:  My need to carry a purse slowly decreases as the girth of my arse increases.  Just lift, tuck your lip gloss in a flap and go)


Man oh man! I'm *this* close to self-healing. I. Can. Feel. It.


Don't look at me like that.


I should probably just eat a deep fried coke and attempt this whole "baby steps" thing again tomorrow...