Great.

First, my calves went on strike. Now, it's my right ankle.

Saturday morning, as I was heading out the door, my right foot stepped on the "Welcome" mat and unbalanced to the left. The sudden pain of all my weight crushing down on my ankle made me tear.

The pain itself wasn't as bad as it seemed, but I think that what caused hot salty drops to fall from my eyes was the fact that my legs were already giving me a heck of a lot of trouble. I got over my tantrum and drove to the boy I'm tutoring in French's house. Later on, I met up with Coffee Bean and we walked a good three hours around the mall.

My calves didn't hurt so much, nor did my ankle. But by the end of the night, it had enlarged into a bump that was the size of Alaska.

Thankfully, I can still walk normally.

I had been wondering if all of these bodily injuries were just an unfortunate coincidence. This morning, however, I now believe that something bigger is at stake. Call me crazy, but I suspect that the factor behind all of my misfortunes is the Fat in my body.

You see, the Fat that has comfortably resided in some rather unsightly areas now feels threatened by the sudden increase of physical activity. It is alarmed by the rate at which it is slowly disappearing from my being and fears eternal banishment from my thighs, behind and upper arms. So, in an effort to retain its idle status quo, it has become the ringleader of a bodily strike that will prevent me from losing weight. The Fat has recruited the calves and the ankle as its cronies.

Screw you, Fat. You're not gonna win this time. I'm getting rid of you if its the last thing I do.

Barb the French Bean