Slowly but surely doing my smoking hot bod make-over
I need a flat wash-board muscular abdomen and perfect bubble jungle booty and breasts and legs and arms and everything sculpted exactly because of diet and exercise. I plan to slowly lose this two hundred and something pounds in obese diseased weight and get down to a healthy buck sixty therefore I can crave exercise non-stop and do my exercises and squats and whatnot and make my body work like it's my weight machines, do regular pushups and get to the point where I can use a chair and lift my self up and down with my arms like push-ups going up and down on a chair making my arms buff as shit. A crazy hitman movie had shown a man doing those push-ups I just mentioned in the last sentence before this sentence. I am going to be super geeked when I slowly get to 160 pounds therefore I will not be obese any longer at a buck sixty.
I am fantasizing about the green Gucci stiletto pumps with the green Gucci suit to match, and I want it to be the latest too. I want to rock a sexy Patek one day and then a ladies Daytona Rolex the next with some green Gucci or Supreme. I would love to be holding Balenciaga money for sure. There are fifty-two weeks + one day in a year, I hope I do something right with my bag. I know if I do not get in my bag better than back in the day, I am totally fucked, without comfort. I need my fitness back.
Money bag money bag money bag aye. I need the physical and mental and financial fitness I believe I deserve and have the ability to work hard for and prove to myself that I can do it. It will hurt very much if I do not see my goals through. I hate that I have not reached my goals yet, patience is a virtue is what a lot of decent people say. One of my favorite figures of speeches is "this too shall pass." "patience is a virtue." or "you can lead a horse to the water, but you can't make him drink." My patience is wearing thin however I am working on myself I plan to better myself until I am satisfied and then want to better myself some more.
I am hoping I can generate enough stories to have my readers convinced that I am not dead. Damn, I have only made a few stories in nearly nine months now. I feel shitty about that fact. If I had generated enough decent stories maybe I would have seen a pretty penny by now. I feel disgusted right now, I wish I could get a zip of mary janes flowers and smoke the whole bouquet in two months maybe two and a half months just to cheer me up. I feel down and depressed about my financial situation and my health and obesity issues. It is like no matter what I am never satisfied enough with anything. I am so unsatisfied with my situation, I am fed the fuck up.
I want to see trillions off of my stories but that will never happen. It hurts to know my work is so poor that no one is interested. It hurts. No one reads my work. Nobody at all then I wonder why I feel like bawling my eyes out. My grammar and punctuation are lucky if it ever comes outright. I am in an emotional ache right now I feel like crying. I am fighting my tears, I ache so bad for success.