the last pound

I find it somewhat ironic that I cannot break the 150 mark. 150 pound mark that is.

You see, for some reason I have it in my head that 150 pounds is the perfect weight for me. The guys at work watch me eat with astonishment at how much I can throw back in my gullet. I have won the title as the official ice cream moocher because any leftover ice cream in the freezer from other shifts is fair game at snack time in my books. I gorged during the holiday season on blue cheese, and fruitcake and wine oh my, and could only tip the scales at 149. Not bad considering when I was nursing a ravenous Maiya I was a mere 136. That dear child sucked the life out of me. People think I am nuts for wanting to put on weight when at this time of year everyone is trying to shed it. Not me. I want to look like an amazon. I want that extra sinewy heft behind me.... the extra weight and muscle serves me well when it comes to hauling around equipment and I don't fly around like a rag doll at the end of a charged hose line. If only I could pick where the pounds went on my body. Like my boobs and bottom for instance would be nice. But alas, beggars can't be choosers. On that note.... I'm gonna find me a bedtime snack.