Rock On

So my rock star status was officially confirmed yesterday when I threw my back out because I was vomiting so much.

With that being said, you can imagine how my night went. Let's just say that I took full advantage of the open bar and got more than my moneys worth.

And with that being said, I am really tired of hurting myself. What happened to the good ole' days when I could act a fool and not mangle myself in any way? Apparently those are long gone along with my waistline, which is another issue I'm having right now. Last week I went to stretch my legs and my stomach got in the way. What. the. fuck. I refuse to look like one of those huge fat ladies that has to walk like a bell because they have too much stuff hanging everywhere. Nuh-uh - not going to happen.

I officially started my diet yesterday, not because it was a resolution, but because the holidays were over, the cookies were eaten, and Roommate #1's McDonald's gift card was used up (Roommate #2 will be added to the mix very shortly). I want to join a gym, but it seems that every time one injury goes away another one keeps popping up. And if I join a gym, I wonder what injuries could come out of that, especially with heavy things and questionable machinery around me at all times. I'm bound to break something or somehow disfigure myself.

Well New Year, new injuries. Bring on the gym.