July 8, 2010

While I’m at it, give me the pill that makes me loose 50 pounds, turns me back into a runner (post 50 pounds), styles my hair every morning and makes my cat less obnoxious at night.

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mmmm…. drugs.  To hell with moral fortitude.  Give me the sleeping pill.  While I’m at it, give me the pill that makes me loose 50 pounds, turns me back into a runner (post 50 pounds), styles my hair every morning and makes my cat less obnoxious at night.

In the meantime, the pill that helps me sleep through the night is a good start.

This must be an extreme situation because I’m pill-phobic.  I hate taking a pill for anything.  The moment it becomes vital and I succumb to the situation, my dark reptilian brain starts calculating how to stop it.

It’s not the pill itself or it’s affects.  It’s the dependency.  Now, if I could only have that same relationship with food.

Nah, I’d rather it be a healthy relationship.

Maybe there’s a pill I can take.

Significantly,

Susan Scot Fry

Update… Except ibuprofen.  I eat that stuff like skittles.

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