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My entire motivation is to look better in my Comic Con costume next year, which means I have 6 months to firm up and shake about 35 pounds.  Most of those pounds live on my thighs, in a happy community they call "Weird Rasping Noise When Heather Walks Too Fast".  It's nice but you really have to keep an eye on the homeowners' association.  No basket ball hoops.

Anyway, I tend to get started and then abruptly stop.  I was doing well until about 6 months ago when I moved 1800 miles away to a place where everyone I know is either naturally slender or doesn't give a shit anymore.  I have since gained back 10 pounds of fat and a lifetime of shame.

SO, hopefully we can be friends and all make progress in some sort of fantastic, booty moving extravaganza.

You know, or not.

I'm too socially awkward to be good at this kind of thing.

 

 

I offer a picture of my dog, Bender.  He used to be cute and small like this.  Now he is large and tries to chase me while I'm on the treadmill.

post-24357-0-82230200-1385067083_thumb.j

It's just an object.  Doesn't mean what you think.

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