Every month or so, I feel really bad about the way I live and decide that I'm going to get better. I clean my room like a maniac. I tell myself that I'm going to eat healthier and exercise more often.
This is usually what happens:
Me: *reorganizing bookshelves* Oh, wow! I haven't read this one in years! Maybe I'll just read for a chapter or so... *stays up until 5 AM reading*
Me: Okay, Clara. You have to eat. You are not fat. But eat healthy. And no, coffee does not count as food.
ONE WEEK LATER
Me: Fuck this. Doughnut.
TWO DAYS LATER
Me: *looks in mirror* I am so fat.
Me:*goes for three mile run* *comes home wheezing* I... forgot... to... take... my... inhaler.
THIRTY MINUTES LATER
Me: *limps pathetically through house* Everything hurts... *doesn't run again for a month*
Who needs muscles and cleanliness?
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