So last night I stepped on the scale. The good news... I haven't gained any weight in 6 months. The bad news... I haven't lost any weight in 6 months.
I hate looking at my gut so I had this grand plan to eat nothing but salads (they could have meat in them) for lunch and dinner for the next month and tracking my progress.

As they say, "the best laid plans of mice and men". When I got to work the gigantor cinnamon rolls you see in the picture were staring me in the face. Yummy carboriffic mounds of cinnamon bun covered with a frosty sweet topping of icy goodness that was calling my name... Andy, Andy it whispered. I could smell the hint of cinnamon coming from the warm doughy concoctions. I told myself I'll just pull one little piece off the side and to at least enjoy the flavor, if however brief. Then I went back to the scene of my crime and thought "one more tiny little bite won't hurt me". I could totally not have any more. But then I started justifying my indulgence and, skipping to the end, you bet I ate the whole damn thing! I have no willpower in the face of a warm, sweet cimonimonon roll! Mmmmm.