i hear the sound of hot air

i've gained over 20 pounds... not on that damned diet, i predicted i was going to quit. or cheat. or fail... whatever terminology applies...
i just couldn't damn well do it.

so i'm going to a "body sculpting" class tonight, to sculpt my body... i'm nervos. the crazy yet eerily motivating instructor who taught my partner in weight loss crime and i step the other night is also instructing this sculpting class...
i really thought i was going to die while i was in her class, just drop dead in a pool of my own sweat after tripping over the damn step and into the flailing arms and legs of another poor slob desperately trying to shed those unwanted fat pounds so we can feel better about ourselves instead of walking down the street and fighting the urge to binge eat donuts and greasey cheese pizza as we poorly cope with the stress related depression brought on by the etheopian thin waife who's jeans cling on for dear life to her hips as she eats an ice cream cone and complains of being fat.
and not only that, i am completely uncoordinated so while the girls in front of me go left, i go right. walking and breathing already isn't a strong point for me, where did i get off thinking i could coordinate my limbs enough to attempt something everyone else makes look easy but in fact is quite complicated? a display of seinfeld-esque proportions - "it's like a full body dry heave set to music..."
thank you george for bringing internal commentary to my self-concious efforts
tonight i hope for better results, although my legs still ache and i find it unsettlingly hard to make my way up a short flight of stairs (thank jebus for railings)
why can't we live in a time where pudgy pale women are beautiful and objects of desire?! damn the 90's for turning the population into spastic weightloss freaks and grease guzzling buckets of lard