Dieting. Just soak in that word for a second and truly comprehend what it means. Dieting. It means ripping the joy out of food. It means replacing your warm, grease filled heart with raw veggies and unsalted everything. It means cutting back on alcohol. Alcohol, people. This is absurd. But wait, there’s more. Diets usually coincide with exercise. Exercise! Really take the time to reel that one in too. Exercise. It means closing your laptop in the middle of your favorite Netflix series. It means strapping on the sports bra. It means running. Running. Let me get that across one more time. Running. What is this cruel world coming to?

Why do you get fast food?

Anywhere I go when I'm dieting, I hate everyone who isn't struggling through cucumbers and kale with me. I literally despise the girl in the taco bell drive-thru, or the guy carrying a pizza across town. Why are they so skinny, but here I am eating nothingness and I'm still the Kool-Aid Man?

So much OW!

Exercise equals pain. Pain during the process of exercise, pain while stretching after the exercise, pain a week after the exercise occurred. Sore muscles are the worst. It hurts to move. Forward, backward, sideways, it doesn't matter. My body just doesn't want to do it.

Where are my results?

After weeks of sore muscles. I'm still fat. I still hate looking at the scale when I step on it. I still look awful in the dress I bought two months ago. I'm still fat. So why the hell am I still putting myself through this agony?

Boobs-Be-Gone.

Just kidding! I lost 10 pounds. It took a lot of hard work and dedication.. Wait. Why is my sports bra the only one that fits anymore? Where did my boobs go? Why do I still look like a potbelly pig, but now with B cups instead of D's?

So time consuming.

It takes me a good 10 minutes to get to my workout destination. It takes like 15 minutes before I eat to count the calories of what I'm about to indulge in. But wait, it's not indulging when it tastes like paper. Oh and I'm sorry, but I'm not exactly an Olympic athlete. It might take me 10 minutes to run a mile. It takes a lot out of me, okay? This is a lot of weight to throw around.

Why is my body sticky?

Sweating is not okay. It is probably the grossest thing I do on a daily basis. All the trainers keep telling me to drink more water, but then I just produce more and more sweat. I'd really just rather not.

Excuse me, bodybuilder. Could I get the five-pound dumbbell?

I can't get myself to go to a weight room. It is the most embarrassing thing in the world when I feel like I'm really going hard and then look over and somebody is doing the exact same thing I am. Except they might have two or three times the weight I do. No big deal. I'll just find the door, and go cry in a corner. Thank you.

Sooo I can stop? After let's say, a full day?

I lost like five pounds. That's good enough to deserve a cheat day, right? Nope. It's back. I found you, you sneaky little five pounds, you. But I'll be honest. The carbs were so worth it!

Alcohol

Why must you be so fattening, alcohol? If I could just get drunk all the time, I wouldn't be so concerned about the dieting and exercise. Why, alcohol, why? I would run six miles if I had 12 beers in me. I would eat every carrot I've ever laid eyes on if I had three bottles of wine first. Is it too much to ask for some low calorie whiskey?

For all of the reasons listed above, I choose to ask everyone to just let me stay fat and happy. You can go run and eat all the green peppers your heart desires. As for me, my friend, I will keep my big ass planted on this couch. I will eat as much junk food as humanly possible. And you can bet that when I have a dry mouth, I will fix that real quick. With an ice cold brewskie.