I’m an emotional eater. When I’m depressed, I eat. When I eat, I get fat. When I get fat, I get depressed. When I get depressed, I eat.

That, my friends, is a vicious cycle.

I am constantly changing my mind regarding what I want to be when I “grow up”. By 30 I though this process would be complete and I would happily engaged in a well paid and fulfilling position. I’m well paid but the rest is kind of… meh.

I can see myself doing something fabulous such as interior decorating but one should live in a large city to be successful in a profession like that.

Back to the grind I suppose.

I am a diehard online shopper. It’s an art and I’ve been perfecting it for years. I know where to go for discount designer clothing, purses, shoes, makeup, jewelry, bedding, furniture, gifts, body products and anything else that a girl might need.

A strange thing happens to me though when I let anyone in on my secret finds. I’m happy to share at first but then I find I am overcome with jealousy if they actually buy anything. I feel like I should get credit somehow… like they should have to wear a sign around their neck that says “poutine and prada helped me find this outfit!”

Perhaps I should go into busniess, people could tell me what they’re looking for and I could track it down. I could give out sleek silver business cards.

I would enjoy that.

I used to be a size five. I could eat an entire bag of Doritos every night and still bounce a penny off my belly.

The weight gain started about four years ago and I just don’t know how to deal with it. If I tried to bounce a penny off my belly these days it would disappear for a week and thenĀ emerge in the shower, green with mildew and partly disintegrated.

I’m not going to lie, I’ve still got an ass that won’t quit and a rack that makes men stand at attention. It’s just that I’ve also got *shudder* back fat. Hiding back fat is a trick I have yet to master. It’s a feat that mystifies me. Short of spending a small fortuneĀ on scary looking undergarments, I’m at a loss.

Help?