cUrsed! Rats!!!!

It was the night afore, when I made the big mistake of jumping on the scale. Why? I thought that I was making progress. I mean with my loose fit clothes and all. Not to mention, working out 4 to 5 times a week like a schizy on meds. Well, the scale tells no lie. I am now 131 as opposed to 115. What the phhhhh!!!!!!!!!! Currently, I am scraping the hallways of my mind like a lost lunatic.

Listen, I know that muscle is heavier than fat, but come the flippin’ on. Not only that, I’ve completely cut down on my alcohol intake to a complete null, a worthless zero. Furthermore, after reading up on sugar content of champagne is complete potty, I kicked my bubbly consort to the curb. Finally, I’ve been eating small meals a day which entail raw greens, fish and crap. Boggled minds are scrambling searching for a scientific reason...no, I’m not a closet saccharine shyster, I despise the sin. I drink so much water that I give the can more play than a bulimic. And, this is how my body repays me? Rats! I have crucified my lifestyle just to see myself gain? It’s discouraging to know that I’ve busted my ass to see that I have digressed. I mean does weight really matter when it comes to muscle? Hell effen yes, it certainly does.

I am driven, drive, drive, drive to switch it up! It's called attacking Potrero hills by storm at sunrise. At my age, metabolism needs a fine kick in the rear. I have the next six months before it’s go time for a baby and gosh darnit I just wanna be in the best shape.

Lesson: A strapping grasshopper can not live on lawn and bugs alone.