Hello, and welcome. This blog post is brought to you by the word SHAPE.

Yes ladies and gentlemen, I’ve reached that point in my life, again, where I’m thoroughly disgusted with my body AND my hair. Something must be done. For you see, I’m too stubborn to brood, pout or get depressed. Oh no, whenever I get sick of something, I tend to be the sort of person who gnaws and nibbles at the problem until it turns into a full-fledged wound, and then I have no choice but to take care of it because then it becomes infected, turns an angry shade of blackish-green and …

Well, you get the picture.

I’ve reached this disgusted level a few other times in my life. The last time was a few years ago when I found myself buying larger and larger jeans to accommodate my wide load. Whoa nelly, I put the skids on that when I reached … .when I reached … well, when I reached an unacceptable size, let’s just put it like that, shall we?

So, I joined a gym. And paid a ridiculous amount to get started. Which sort of ticked the hubs off because he was all like, “Why are you doing this? You know you’re not going to use it and it will be a waste of money.”

Now, soft, tolerate chuckle anyone who knows me has GOT to know that saying that to me does nothing but tick me off. And it makes me even that much more determined to prove that person wrong.

Read the rest at http://writefromkaren.com