I finally got tired of being a cow and, about two months ago, put myself on a diet.
I am, as the saying once went, “reducing.” And this time, I’m not going for anything radical or faddish. I’m not eating pounds of bacon (but no bread!) for breakfast; I’m not running around the block or subsisting on little squares of cardboard and pretending that’s lunch. I’m just eating less. I asked the Internet how many calories a person who never gets out of his chair and refuses to exercise should be consuming, and it told me. I complied. (It also helped that I stopped eating the fattening foods I normally prepare for my parents.)
Anyway. It’s working. I’ve dumped 17 pounds. The weight didn’t come flying off, but it’s still gratifying to be able to button my pants.
Thing I Hate Today: My sluggish metabolism
I Love Everything 
Congratulations on your weight loss. How did you get my picture?
I started walking – you know, that old-bullshit thing about “Fifteen Minutes a Day of Walking Can…” blah blah blah.
What keeps it interesting? Mentally critiquing all the ugly houses on the block, and/or counting your steps to see how close you come at the end of each Fifteen Minutes of Health.
And NO Quick Service (fast food) Establishments.
Time will tell, but congrats on your progress.
This statue inspires me to stop eating chips and salsa every day for lunch.