Ask anyone who has ever attempted to lose weight and they’ll tell you that planning ahead is indisputably one of the keys to success. Only, that’s a problem for people like me. I don’t even plan what I’m going to wear to work each day until five minutes after I already should have left. So I generally don’t plan what I’m going to eat for a meal until my stomach has already started growling.

So a few weeks ago, I was hunting around the internet for inspiration and/or solutions as I prepared to get back on the proverbial wagon. Enter healthfulpursuit.com . What has worked for me in the past is simplifying my diet down to the most basic elements – vegetables, fruits, lean proteins. When I narrowed my food intake down to these things, I learned a lot about my body. It doesn’t digest dairy well, for starters. But it does handle raw veggies better than the average bear’s. While others are popping the Bean-o after snacking on broccoli and carrots, I’m moving merrily about my business.

Healthful Pursuit, founded and operated by a gal named Leanne Vogel (who has no idea who I am, by the way) immediately seemed to line up with everything I wanted. And best of all, Leanne has a Meal Plan Program that comes complete with a shopping list each week. And she specifically points out that you don’t need to shop at expensive fancy stores for good produce. (I love you so much Whole Foods, but Albertson’s prices beat you every time).

I looked at some of the sample recipes and since every one of the looked delicious, it wasn’t a hard decision – I signed up for the meal plan and followed the first one religiously. Those pictures in my last post? All from the menu that week. I lost four pounds and used everything I’d bought, which was great. Usually I go to the store, by lots of things that seem like good, healthy choices, and then throw them all out two weeks later because I had no idea what to do with them.

The second week, unfortunately, has been a bumpy road for me. With an overwhelming number of work projects stacked up on my plate, I haven’t had time to go shopping. So I’m back up three pounds.

Am I bummed? Sure. But I’m not throwing in the towel. That puts me at 186 today.

The temptation is always there to get frustrated and thrown in the towel. Or eat a dozen Sprinkles cupcakes and never look back. But frosting-covered guilt isn’t going to make this better. A reality check, on the other hand, isn’t a bad idea. So I’m reminding myself that I have good food in my fridge and a great pair of running shoes in my closet. And even if I am back up three pounds, I’m not where I started.

I will not let one bad week derail me from my mission.

Original article: Always Have a Plan… Or Use Someone Else’s

©2013 Prior Fat Girl. All Rights Reserved.

Once upon a time there was a girl who was overweight. But she saw the light and she lost her extra weight and bought a whole new wardrobe and new makeup and styled her hair differently and everywhere she went the birds sang and small forrest creatures followed her around and stared at her with devoted admiration. A tall, dark handsome man with perfect teeth and a broad vocabulary swept her off her feet and they spent all their days traveling to exotic places and all their nights watching Downton Abbey and drinking red wine and eating organic food.

No. No, that’s not my story.

Once upon a time there was a girl who was overweight. But she realized that because she was overweight she was missing out on stuff that seemed like an awful lot of fun. So she whipped herself into shape and ate nothing but vegetables (the really serious kind, like kale and parsnips and brussels sprouts and beets) with an occasional smattering of fruit. And then one day, she drove by a Whataburger and remembered how good those all beef patty covered with melted cheese and flanked by a greasy bun with all the fixins’ used to taste. And all the organic food and all the Billy Blanks’ Tai-Bo videos couldn’t put Humpty together again. She gained everything back, and then some.

No, that’s not it either.

Once upon a time there was a girl who was overweight. For a very long time, she accepted this as something that was simply fact. Something she couldn’t change. And then, one day, she realized that she could change it. So she employed her common sense, will power, and ability to self-educate and within a year’s time, she was in an entirely different place. For the first time ever, she didn’t have her clothes organized by size and she didn’t worry so much about pool parties or last minute outings or about people taking pictures and putting them on Facebook. She wasn’t scared anymore. She started to really live.

But then, perhaps because she wasn’t as sure of herself as she thought she was, or perhaps because she just didn’t realize the breadth of the commitment a “lifestyle change” would require, she began to slip. Exercise became more and more infrequent. She gave herself permission to eat the foods and the quantities of food that she used to eat, in the “before” days. She dabbled in dating, but it was a foreign land to her and when insecurities surfaced, she turned to her old coping mechanisms. Food. Food. More food. And living became less, and the existing became more.

There. Right there, is where she found herself two years after beginning her journey. It wasn’t where she wanted to be, and after months of swinging back and forth on a pendulum between dieting legalism and hopeless fat-must-be-her-destiny fatalism, she was ready to make a choice.

Being human, she realized, is to have certain proclivities. And hers were for the sweet and savory things of life. For many mornings in a row, she woke up early and contemplated her position while spirals of steam rose from her coffee cup and tickled her nostrils. Where to go from here? How to begin the going? What to change, so that maybe the going will go until it’s finished this time? She journaled these things and made a plan.

First. She changed her environment. She went from a house with five people far from work (much too far to be able to cook healthy food on a regular basis) to a small home with one roommate about six minutes from work (that she could easily get to and invest the time in making meals that supported her overall goals).

Second. She dropped the timeline. Losing weight fast would be good. Losing weight permanently, the right way, would be much better.

Third. She resolved that she would accept herself, warts and all. That she would maintain a sense of realism, so so as not to become a victim in life, and a sense of humor, so that she would remember to laugh at herself.

Yes. That’s my story. My priorities are realigned, and I’m ready to write again. And I’m buckled up, for safety, obviously.

Here are a few of the things I’ve been eating this week. Can’t wait to tell you more about them.

Original article: Once Upon A time

©2013 Prior Fat Girl. All Rights Reserved.

Back to 183.

They say (yes, they) that the average person gains 10 pounds during the holidays, but I think I’ll go ahead and tap the brakes at 5.

For a brief, shining moment I had dipped my toes back into the 170s. And then the holidays happened. Well, I let them happen. Those Christmas cookies and pies didn’t hop onto my plate and jump down my throat on their own. And now I have to pay the piper.

I’ve done a lot of thinking over the last month about how, in this year, I experienced my lowest weight since high school, and also my highest weight since I started down this journey about two years ago. How is that I did so well, and then did so poorly, all within the span of a few months?

The thing is, I almost had it. But not quite. While I had made some positive changes to the way I was eating and the kinds of food I was eating, I never actually put food in its right place in my life. Before I lost weight, food was my friend, my loyal companion. After I lost food, it became something I could exert control over. Like, maybe there were other things in my life that weren’t working out the way I wanted, but I most certainly had the power to chose what I put in my mouth. It was a dragon that I’d slain. And instead of being ashamed over my relationship with food, I became prideful about it.

See, the problem is that all that time, food still held an inappropriately important position in my life. A nearly all-consuming position. It was, in essence, an idol.

I don’t believe that food is inherently evil. Actually, food is a good thing. And, being a professing Christian, I’ll go even further and say that food is a gift from a loving God. I mean, think about it. God could have made food really boring. He could have said, “There, see that tree over yonder? Ok, well, whenever you need nourishment, just go gnaw off some bark.” And that could have been it. Tree bark. How utterly dull.

But he didn’t do that. He gave us food that comes in every color of the rainbow. He gave us sweet food, savory food, food that can be cooked or eaten raw. He gave us herbs and seasonings. He gave those foods mouth-watering aromas. We have nuts, beans, grains… the list goes on and on. Basically, God made food fun–He wanted us to enjoy it. But He doesn’t want us to worship it.

When my job pushes me over the edge, and my reaction is to reach for the nearest candy bar to cope, I am making a grave mistake. I am making a conscious decision to prefer God’s gifts (food) over God Himself. This hasn’t worked out well for me historically. If I’m not happy about some circumstance in my life, waking up the next morning to find a bigger number on the scale does not help the situation. Ever. Ever. Ever.

So here I am. Legs crossed in front of me, hands in folded in my lap, eyes fixed on some distant object while I work my jaw back and forth and ponder the New Year unfolding before me. I think about a God who is big enough to change the things about me that I cannot, and a prayer starts to form in the recesses of my mind. “Teach me to view food rightly. As a gift to be enjoyed, to tickle the senses and remind me that the creator of anything is always better, and more fascinating and interesting than what has been created.”

Original article: Happy New Ye…awwww…Dang.

©2013 Prior Fat Girl. All Rights Reserved.

Ok, so the number is…

178.8

Which, believe it or not, I’m actually thrilled about. I started the week at 183. (I know, I’m completely out of order, but we’re reining it back in). 

You’ve heard it said that the “mind is a powerful thing,” but in 2004, the Cleveland Clinic conducted a study that brought astounding gravity to the cogency of that statement.

A group of 30 young, healthy adults was divided into three smaller groups, and each group was given a task to perform for 15 minutes a day, five days a week, for 12 weeks.

Group 1) imagine exercising one of their small fingers

Group 2) imagine exercising their bicep muscles

Group 3) do nothing (they were the control group)

At the end of the 12 week experiment, Group 1 had increased the strength in their finger muscles by 53%. Group 2 had increased the strength in their biceps by 13.4%. Group 3 didn’t have any reportable changes.

Besides the fact that this means I could potentially imagine my way into a bikini by next summer, there are some profoundly important implications we have to consider upon observing these results.

1) The mind is, indeed, powerful. If the mind can literally “think” a muscle into existence, then what kind of damage can a depressing thought do? I’d hazard to guess… it might depress you.

I’ve spent much of this year under the burden of a hefty sadness, feeling trapped by an addiction to food. Feeling left behind while others go on to get married and start families. Feeling, in many ways, like a hopeless outsider. Like damaged goods. Could it be that the action of dwelling on these thoughts is the vehicle by which they became manifest in my daily life?

2) That which has been done can be undone.

If, after that experiment, strength in the fingers and biceps existed where it once had not (and all of this a result of brain activity), we have to acknowledge an exciting truth! Reality can be changed. For me, this means the story I’ve been writing about myself isn’t set in stone. The things I’ve been convincing myself are true – that I am hopeless, useless, defeated, not normal, unredeemable – they are no more attached to me than a thought. And bad thoughts are easily cast off and replaced by good ones. Healthy ones. Hopeful ones.

I am 28 years old. My body works. My family loves me. My favorite talent is writing. I want to live a life marked by love, health, and wisdom. I was designed for growth and exploration. I am rich in the ways that matter. And I really like my hair.

Now what was I depressed about?

3) When I forget these things, as I am prone to do,  I am greatly comforted by the knowledge that One who is much greater than I is looking out for my well-being, and will see to it that I am led back into Truth.

In my time with the Lord this morning, the verse that leapt off the page at me was this:

“You were running a good race. Who cut in on you to keep you from obeying the truth? That kind of persuasion does not come from the one who calls you. A little yeast works through the whole batch of dough…The one who is throwing you into confusion, whoever that may be, will have to pay the penalty.”

                                                                                                                                                         -Galatians 5:7-10

In other words, God is persistently at work to uproot and change the part of me that thinks it will find happiness in a tube of raw cookie dough. And he knows that self-deprecating thoughts, even small ones (yeast), have tripped me up. I have stumbled over them, and identified myself as a failure (the whole batch of dough). And that isn’t from Him. He calls me to shift my gaze away from the things that are scary, to focus fully on the goodness and kindness of His nature, and to plant myself firmly in the knowledge that He wants to teach me to enjoy the gift of health, one moment at a time.

Journaling through the thoughts.

Original article: Weigh in & Mind over Matter

©2013 Prior Fat Girl. All Rights Reserved.

Well, I’ve been 28 for three days now. Keeping my chin up, and forging ahead. So far, proud of the resolve that is steadily increasing inside me to improve myself and reach my goals.

One minor setback: I did not go grocery shopping this weekend. No problem though. I can make do. Like any single career woman, I have a few staple items to get me by. A large bag of grapefruit, a frozen loaf of Ezekiel bread, a can of baked beans, a box of Larabars, and a box of shredded wheat. I’ll figure something out.

Goal 1) Lose 20 pounds (hit this goal, then evaluate how much more)

I don’t think I’ve lost 20 pounds since writing my last entry, but there has been progress. How much? I’m not sure. I’ll weigh in on Thursday and let you know. Twenty pounds is doable. Perfectly doable. I can do 20 pounds, and I can do it in a reasonable amount of time. I just have to bear in mind that two weeks is not reasonable (is it?).

One struggle I have is defining a reasonable workout. I tend think that if I’m not on the verge of death when it’s over, that I haven’t really, truly been exercising. And since I don’t often feel excited about going to the gym with the intention of making myself completely miserable and running/lifting/squatting/squeezing/lunging/crunching until I pass out, I do a pretty good job of talking myself out of it altogether (Oh my, it’s been WAY to long since I cleaned my toilet! Must do that tonight! Guess I’ll have to put off the gym). I realize, however, that this is ridiculous. I am not Hercules. Or an Ironman. Or even Richard Simmons. It is perfectly acceptable for me to go to the gym and count it a success, even if I don’t leave in an ambulance.

So I gave myself permission today to walk. For an hour. For one whole hour, I walked on the treadmill at anywhere from 3.5 to 5.5 MPH pace, and when It was over, I felt great. Genuine endorphins, genuine pride in the fact that I spent my time doing something good for myself. And then I went and sat in the sauna for 1o minutes. Hey, every little bit helps. Even the water weight. Who cares if it comes right back? It’s a confidence booster on the scale.

Goal 2) Re-engage in at least one of my hobbies (gave them all up after accepting a new position at work that keeps me on call nights every other day and weekends)

I’ve started writing again. May take me a few days to hit my stride, but oh, how I’ve missed it. I’ve started journaling for myself, letting my thoughts tumble from my head down to my pen and watching them fill the pages of my worn leather bound Moleskine.

Goal 3) Go on a date (dating still intimidates me, but there are scarier things than going to dinner and putting on your best behavior)

The men I never have trouble attracting are either:

a) Old. Very old. I have been approached time and time again over the years by men in the 50+ category. I often tell them I’m only 16, but I’m not sure I can continue to sell it. While it might still have been a little believable at 24, I’m pretty sure it isn’t working anymore at 28. Either way, need to come up with a new deflection tactic.

b) Openly appreciative of women of size. Last month in the Kroger parking lot a man walked up to me and asked if he could take me to dinner because he quite liked the size of my derriere. He’s lucky I didn’t shove my carton of almond milk up his.

Personally, I’d like to be able to avail myself to options outside these two categories. And so, with that ambition firmly in mind, I set out to meet people this weekend. Once again to the dog park with my loyal companion, Ruby. Happily, we met several nice men… unhappily, they were all unavailable. Still, it was a step up from the last visit to the park, when we were accosted by the local news and interviewed for a story about dog poop.

And as we lay, sprawled out on the grass,  looking up at the skyscrapers around us while an acoustic guitarist sang Michael Jackson’s “Human Nature” in the background, I reflected that year 28, and indeed this week, are both off to a solid start.

Original article: Goal-getting, and Permission to Walk

©2013 Prior Fat Girl. All Rights Reserved.

I’m in a very odd place.

One minute, I feel like I could give up everything but carrots and eat only carrots until the day I reach 135 pounds. The next minute, I feel so frustrated that making really good food choices for a whole three days in a row doesn’t result in a magical 50 pound loss that I just want to throw in the towel and give up on the whole thing. And so the pendulum swings. Back and forth. Back and forth.

But one can only swing back and forth for so long before getting motion sickness and throwing up. I’ve been on that pendulum all year, pretending to enjoy the fact that I feel like I can’t get my balance.

And yesterday, I turned 28. As I sat staring at my birthday cupcake, the reality that a year has gone by and I’m not where I wanted to be (in more ways than weight loss), sank in heavily. I indulged in a good cry, took some time to work out my thoughts, and then made a deal with myself. This year, I will set some goals, and I will give myself the dignity of meeting them.

Goal 1) Lose 20 pounds (hit this goal, then evaluate how much more)

Goal 2) Re-engage in at least one of my hobbies (gave them all up after accepting a new position at work that keeps me on call nights every other day and weekends)

Goal 3) Go on a date (dating still intimidates me, but there are scarier things than going to dinner and putting on your best behavior)

I only get two more years in my 20s. It’s my job to make sure they’re great.

For anyone out there starting a journey, or maybe stuck in the middle of one, I offer this:

First of all, I know where you are, I know how you feel. You aren’t alone.

Second of all, the good news is that as long as we’re breathing, as long as we wake up to another sunrise, we have an opportunity to keep trying.

To 28!

Original article: Wanting To, Then Not Wanting To, Then Turning 28

©2013 Prior Fat Girl. All Rights Reserved.

For the last two years, I haven’t had TV – well, cable to be specific. Originally, I made the decision begrudgingly, but when I realized how much money I’d be saving every month without it, I bid a sorrowful farewell to my beloved DVR box and endless hours of Seinfeld reruns and never looked back.

The first month was a little rough. I lived by myself, and more than anything, I turned on the tube just to have some background noise so I didn’t feel quite so alone. Funny thing though, once the TV was no longer an easy option for distraction and/or entertainment, I suddenly had a whole lot of time on my hands. So I found ways to fill it.

I ran. I joined dance classes. I went to social mixers at my apartment complex. I went to the gym. I went to the library. I attended lectures on topics that interested me and sniffed out local events at the art museum, the lake, and the arboretum. Compelled by a strong desire to not spend my evenings and weekends staring at the walls of my apartment, I discovered that Dallas had a thriving, culturally diverse after-work life with an equally interesting cast of characters supporting it. The bonus being that by simply going out and living, the problem of mindless evening snacking was eliminated.

In conclusion, the no TV thing turned out to be good for me and, after a while, I didn’t even miss it.

Earlier this year, I moved into a house with three other people. And slowly, so slowly in fact, that I didn’t quite realize it was happening, I got sucked back in. I’d walk by the living room and see someone watching a show, so I’d sit down to watch for a few minutes. Which would turn into hours. And then suddenly I had “favorite shows.” And then I started to care about getting home so I could to the TV first. And then I started eating my dinner in front of the TV. And then… I couldn’t figure out where all my time had gone. Wait. What? Incidentally, the weight loss journey got harder too.

This isn’t good. Time to make a change.

This weekend, I promised myself  I’d get out of the house. The weather was forecasted to be beautiful, and a new park just opened in the middle of downtown. When I woke up Saturday, the anticipation of doing something new and active made it easy to get out of bed and get going. With my roommate’s Black Labrador (Ruby) in tow and a fresh cup of coffee, I left the house – and the TV – behind.

We went to an outdoor market near the lake where local vendors were selling art, food, and crafts. I test drove a bicycle (and almost bought it… hmmm, new activity to explore?). Then we went to the new park. We played fetch for a little while. I read a book. Ruby made friends with everyone in the dog park.

At one point, we were approached by a local news reporter and his cameraman. “I’m doing a story about dog poop,” he said. “Can I interview you?”

“Sure,” I said. Being on the evening news in a story about dog turds might not be the coolest thing that could happen to you, but it definitely registers higher on the “I had an interesting day scale” than losing five hours to a Law & Order SVU marathon.

I avoided the TV on Sunday too. It was great. I felt productive, I moved more, and, just because I felt good about how I was spending my time, it was much easier to make healthy food choices and get in some exercise.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t blame TV for my problems. Rather, I recognize that watching it isn’t an activity that supports my goal of living a healthy lifestyle. So I’m kicking the habit. And I’m pretty sure that in a few weeks, I won’t even miss it. 

Original article: Death to TV, and Can I Ask You About Dog Poop?

©2013 Prior Fat Girl. All Rights Reserved.

On the one hand, wanting to look like the girl in this picture again….

On the other hand, wanting to eat a Fletcher’s Corny Dog at the State Fair…

Desire is a funny thing. If you ask me which of these things I desire more, I have no hesitation in telling you it would be the first image. I want to feel small again, and healthy, and happy. A corny dog doesn’t even begin to compare. And yet,  in a moment, the vision becomes so blurry. The smell of mustard and fried everything tickles my nostrils. Everyone else is having one. I want one too. And the next thing I know, I’m in line.

The corny dog is good, but short-lived. Somebody snaps a picture of everyone standing around eating, and later it ends up on Facebook. And I want to kick myself in the pants when I see it. It wasn’t worth it.

Why do I insist on learning the hard way when it comes to my healthiness journey? I didn’t think I’d be one of the ones who gained it back and had to lose it again, but it turns out I am. And it isn’t fun.

So here I am, trying to recapture the determination I had the first time around and wrestling with the question:

“How do I keep the fleeting desire for food that tastes good from eclipsing my desire to succeed on this journey?”

I mean really. Right there in the heart of the moment, it’s hard to distinguish what it is you want more. After thinking about it for a while, I realized this — I don’t have to hope I have the willpower to make a good decision in those moments. I can prepare myself ahead of time to ensure that I do. 

So here’s the strategy…

1) I write again. Journaling has always been cathartic for me, and I don’t mean writing down calories. I mean writing down the reasons I started this thing and the reasons I want to finish and all the muck that goes on in between.

2) Exercise. My regimen has been spotty at best. But I printed out a seven day free trial for a gym near my house and I pushed myself hard last night. I’ve cleared my schedule so I can go again tonight. I’m going to try out a couple different gyms before I make a commitment, but before the end of this month, I’m going to get a membership somewhere. When I’m working out regularly, I care much more about the food I’m eating.

3) Start off right. I’m not a morning person, but it’s time to put that excuse to bed. I’m going to wake up early enough to make myself a decent breakfast, spend some time reading my Bible (amazing how Truth renews the mind), and put myself together the best that I can. No, I don’t look as good as I’d like, but I can look as good as I’m able. And each day, I’ll get closer to looking in the mirror and being truly, deeply proud of who I see.

When I take the time to define my genuine desire – in this case, to live a  happy, healthy, balanced life – it is much easier to identify and dismiss the false ones.

You can follow me on Twitter @LDunkster and/or @PFG_Elle

Original article: The Strange Duality of Desire

©2013 Prior Fat Girl. All Rights Reserved.

Having gained back a chunk of the weight I’ve lost, I’ve found my clothes to be a little less comfortable than they once were. This is both good and bad. Good, because I’m constantly reminded that I need to shrink my waistline (among other things). Bad, because it’s miserable to have my pants cutting into my stomach all day.

Yesterday was particularly painful. I wore a pair of jeans I got from Old Navy (God bless them for carrying decent styles in plus sizes) a while back. In the 160s, they fit great. In the 150s, they were a little too big. In the 170s, I’m pretty sure my face turns purple. Driving to work in them I realized, rather dolefully, these jeans had no give. Not even one measly thread of Lycra. Come on… help a girl out.

I’m really not interested in buying bigger clothes. Feels like the easy way out. Plus, I know how my mind works. I’d find things that are flattering and become convinced that I look better than I actually do. Better to feel the pinch a little in the clothes I already have and stay focused on getting back on track.

On the flip side, I was hanging out with some of my girlfriends tonight and noticed that one of them had on a pair of navy boot-cut trousers. They were also Lycra-less, and they were adorable. She also wore a lightweight long sleeved shirt, tucked in, with a wide leather belt. The whole outfit looked so polished and put-together, and I realized I don’t want to be stuck in Lycra-cotton blend pants. I want to wear regular pants.

Sometimes the little annoying things are good reminders of why the journey matters.

You can follow me @LDunkster and @PFG_Elle

Original article: Lycra-less Pants

©2013 Prior Fat Girl. All Rights Reserved.

Current Weight: 175

Loss for the Week: 1.4 lb

Total Weight Lost: 37 lbs

I played in a kickball tournament last weekend with some coworkers, and when the pictures of the event came back, I was shocked at how I looked in them. I knew I’d gained some weight back, but it’s amazing how we can convince ourselves that it doesn’t really show… because… uh, it shows.

It makes sense though. If, when I was 159, I had lost another 15 pounds, I would certainly expect my body to look and feel smaller. It stands to reason, then, that 15 ok, closer to 16 pounds in the other direction is going to have the opposite result. Every time I see those pictures all I can think is “thank goodness for the wake-up call.”

And I mean it. Thank goodness for a lot of reasons. Thank goodness I have to get outside and run to manage my weight, because otherwise I might never make myself take time to enjoy the final days of summer. Warm, with a rich golden sun leaving traces of itself between the long evening shadows of the houses and trees in my neighborhood.

Thank goodness I have to come home and cook healthy food for myself, because I’m not one of those people who have the metabolism of a racehorse. Because if I didn’t, I might never find myself trying things like a “pluot” or a braeburn apple or adding red cabbage to my salads.

Thank goodness I’m not perfect, and that I do have this struggle that forces me to constantly revisit the parts of myself that need refining. I know that sounds strange, and I’m not saying I enjoy the frustration that comes with being overweight. I am saying that I’m thankful for the opportunities that it produces in my life for discipline, for learning, for considering carefully what kind of person I am, and what kind of person I would like to become.

A tendency to overeat – to fill myself with food as a coping mechanism – is the very vice that, by the nature of the pain it has caused me and the healing it has forced me through, has yielded more personal growth than any easy, good thing in my life ever has.

Original article: Weekly Weigh-In

©2013 Prior Fat Girl. All Rights Reserved.