There’s something oddly comforting about sitting on the bike or grunting through the shoulder press in my little neighborhood gym and looking out the window to see–no matter what the weather, no matter the time of day–the line of cars snaking through the McDonald’s drive-thru. It’s an instant upper and downer at the same time.  (Health care reform has no chance–even if it passes.) I am suddenly happy to be struggling with the weight above my head. Better that than struggling with the weight of that food in my lap.  Blech.  Haven’t had it in years. Don’t understand why people eat it. I understand overeating homemade cookies and cupcakes. That makes perfect sense. Which is perhaps why I’ll take any opportunity to feel, if not holier than thou, then at least healthier than thou as I gaze out at the drive-thru. That reminds me, tonight I can enjoy another of my favorite self-esteem-boosting rituals–eating ice cream in front of The Biggest Loser.  Sick, I know.

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