Ultimate fajita dip= 1, Keri=0

Not working brings it's challenges...like avoiding eating a bunch of crap while I am home.

So far, it's not so easy.

I want to keep the fifty pounds I lost, off permanently, and maybe lose another 50. I've found that men don't appreciate heft in a woman, although if I were a man, I would certainly prefer snuggling up to something with a little squish to it.

I look at guys who body build, and am immediately disgusted by huge muscles. Don't get me wrong, I like tone and definition. But when I see a man with huge, veiny muscles, I find myself wanting to bite them. To see how long it would take to get them to say, "ouch!"

I also want to shower them, since they think coating themselves in baby oil makes them look tougher. I would imagine it as a weakness if they were to actually fight, being all greased up. If you are going to have muscles, you should be forced to cage fight, otherwise, it's really just a waste. We should also get to see their penises, because if you have a shriveled, steroid-shrunken penis, it makes any muscles null and void.

Anyway, yesterday, I made a delectable treat that I like to call "ultimate fajita dip", which consists of a bowl filled with one part guacamole, one container of sour cream, sauteed onions and peppers, and chicken cooked in taco seasoning. Then I scoop it up and eat it with multigrain tortilla chips.

It's just about the most happy moment of my life when I eat it.

Yes....happier than my wedding day AND the birth of my children, both put together. It's like what I would imagine heaven would consist of.

Then it's followed by guilt, shame, and self-loathing...similar to a one night stand, or so I'm told it should feel like. Funny that random sex shouldn't evoke those feelings in me, yet compulsive overeating does.