Oh dear me.
As the months have rolled on since the pizza of doom, the lbs have rolled on too. The old heartbreak diet (and distinct lack of pizza) knocked a good 16 lbs off me in a really short period of time. I was the most miserable I have ever been in my life, but I could at least get into my skinny jeans.
These days I don’t think I could fit an arm into my skinny jeans, let alone two legs and a bottom.
So, seeing as the weather has taken a turn for springtime and I’m feeling fresh (if a little lonely) after the split from Irish Two, I have decided to try and look non-grotesque when I hit the beach in seven weeks and four days. Not that I’m counting down to my next holiday or anything.
It feels so unfair, though. No boyfriend. No cuddles. No sex. And now no chocolate.
What’s a girl supposed to do for fun?
Pizza of Doom 
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