“I am so fat. My thighs are fat. My stomach is fat. My butt is fat. How can I be this freaking fat? I have been working out. Why am I even bothering to work out? It is not like it is even doing anything. I am fat.”
I throw myself into the desk chair and stare at my fat thighs and fat stomach and fat butt and —
That voice of reason that sometimes turns on in my head — always unexpectedly — goes, Hello Max?
Oh great like I need that. What?
When do girls think they are fat when they are not fat?
Maybe ripping up some Victoria’s Secret catalogs will appease me.