Diary of a Low Budget Superhero

I see you over there in the menu bar, Weight Watcher's tab, don't get all lonely because I haven't touched you since summer. I got stuff for you too, I just haven't felt like writing. And you know those Facebook statuses? They've been taking the place of Low Budget Superhero. Almost a decade of writing, and it's coming undone because I can now post my thoughts in 220 character micro-blogs throughout the day and night, getting immediate and satisfying comments from every other obsessive Live Feed button-pusher. You know who you are! I have no legitimate claims to outrage, having been the cheerleader whose rallying whoops enticed at least five people to join. If you're tweeting because of me, I'm sorry.

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It's three minutes to midnight on Thursday. I've sipped my last drink of water until after my ultrasound in the morning. Gotta go in on an empty stomach.

Ultrasound?

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Just thought I'd mention it. I went ahead and started a new section for the sole purpose of writing about Weight Watchers. I figure that when other people yammer on about this kind of personal thing when I'm not ready or willing to pay attention I'm always bored to the point of shitting myself just so something interesting happens. In other words, you guys who could give a fuck about what size pants I'm currently wearing can ignore it, while those of you who're interested can happily read my diary of a fat chick. See the menu bar for the "WW" and check it out if you want. Weigh-in days are Tuesdays. Thanks!

Well, that was an interesting three days. Interesting, frustrating, annoying three days.

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After the hubbub died down and things were quieter, Joe's mom contrived to get me alone, because she had something very important to tell me.

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