The Break Up

I hate to disappoint everyone, but this post has been a long time coming...

We have officially split.  Broken up.  Dunzo.  Kaput.

That's right, folks, you heard it here.  We are over.  I have ended my relationship with pizza.  And ice cream.  I'm done with both of those jerks, and I hope I don't ever see them ever again.

Let me tell you what happened...

Approximately two years ago (around July 13), I got married to this wonderful man named John.  I had been working out, watching what I ate, etc., etc., so on and so forth.

Then we went on an all-inclusive, amazing, beautiful, super-duper honeymoon to Sandals.  And yes, it was that beautiful.


So on said honeymoon, I ate.  And ate.  And ate and ate and ate.  I ate a lot.


So we get back home, and I continue to eat.  And eat and eat and eat.  I love pizza.  And ice cream.  So I ate a LOT of pizza and ice cream.

Not an actual picture of me, but close enough...

And then, it happened...  One of them got me pregnant.  Not pregnant with a human baby, mind you.  Pregnant with a food baby.  I really don't know how it happened.  John says I need to go on Maury.  But all of a sudden, I had put on a lot of weight, and my pants didn't fit.


So last night after I finished off my carton of Moose Tracks only to be followed by dinner of cheesy bread from Dominos, I decided to call it quits with both of them.


Even though I'm not sure who the father of this food baby is, I know one thing: I'm done with them both!


So from now on, if you see me out with pizza or ice cream, come smack me!  Don't let me cheat on my one true love (the clothes in my closet that are going to fit again) with either of those fools.


Thanks in advance for all your understanding and support.  This break up will be hard, but I know I can do it!!!