446 Cdo/222 lbs/97 Core
I’m way early today, but now’s the time when I have something to write.
I’m leading two lives. In my head, I’m planning a chic wardrobe, French influenced of course. And I can wear heels. And I joyously awake in the morning – in a sophisticated and well-appointed bedroom. My chic wardrobe in its proper place. I do my yoga and Pilates – in a chic, spare great room, with a charming galley kitchen. I shower – in an adorable, clean bathroom – in a luxurious, tiled shower. (If the bathtub don’t fit, ditch it!). Eat a healthy breakfast and head to work. (This week in a 2008 Saturn Aura with low mileage. It’s lovely.). At work, my colleagues and I pursue fraud like bloodhounds. We’re generously rewarded for our hard work. After work, I hit the gym for some me time and then head home for a quick shower and a light supper before hitting the books/Internet for my law class. (Oh, and I’m wearing just the right amount of makeup.)
In reality, I have to drag myself out of bed. I’m tired all the time. There is no chic wardrobe because I’m poor and fat. My bedroom is a complete mess; I’m surrounded by my wardrobe because I treat it as badly as I feel about it. I take a quick shower in my grotty, too small bathtub. Head to work in the wreckmobile, where every day, I discover one more person who is just skating by (and making more than me) while I push myself to do everything I can. I drive home with tired eyes, tired brain, tired. Skip the gym, because I’m tired. Eat something. Check email, Facebook, Twitter, look at my auto love of the week – which is a steal, but I can’t even finance a steal – and eventually retreat into my chic life, which feels so far away that I’ll never reach it in real life.