I Tried, It Was Hard, I Quit,

Really? If I Could Hate My Trainer? That Would Be Ideal. I'd Prefer To Despise This Person With The Fire Of Ten Thousand Suns. So When I Walk - Nay, Crawl - Out Of Here At The End Of My Workouts, I Want To Lull Myself To Sleep By Picturing My Very Talented And Inspirational Trainer Getting Hit By A Bus. A Bus That I Am Driving.

As I Examine My Life Through This Book, I Can't Help But Wonder If My Mother Was Right. Maybe I Really Was What I Ate. And Maybe If She'd Let Me Eat A Little More Sugar, I'd Have Come Out Sweeter.

I'm The Person Who Says Every Single Thing She Thinks, Sometimes To Others' Amusement, And Almost Always To My Detriment.

Ambien Might Have Mentally Just Tossed My Salad. With Croutons.

I Still Believe In The Holy Trinity, Except Now It's Target, Trader Joe's, And Ikea.