Something hit me just now. I know why I'm slightly mushier. Texas. I know, I know, I blame a lot on Texas but hear me out! I hate it here. Stay with me. I hate it here but I can't leave. This makes me very unhappy. Wallowing unhappy. But I know I have to stay, so... I reward myself for not killing anyone, with food. Normally when I see a treat I think, "I could eat that", I then think, "you could but do you need to?", and keep on moving. Now it goes something like this:
"Food , I could eat that."
"But do you need it?"
"DO YOU NEED TO STILL BE ALIVE?!"
"That's what I thought, now give me the darn food!!"
Then I eat it and no one dies. Win win it would seem. Until I try to put on my summer clothes. Then I wallow and start all over. It's a vicious cycle littered with candy wrappers and yummy baked goods. It doesn't help that even though I know about it, I also know I still can't leave so...I think there might be whoppers in the cabinet.