Writing about weight loss is something I find quite tiresome. Entries become carbon copies with slight variations. Sometimes I even get secretly peeved for receiving praise for losing weight. I'm a perverse creature. Still . . . I think, Praise me if I finally manage to write a decent short story or a post that moves you or helps you, maybe. But honestly: Losing a few pounds of fat? While it's far from easy, sometimes it also feels so . . . banal and superficial. Being involved in the weight-loss rat race makes me feel vacuous somehow, like those celebrities on the cover of Us Weekly.

I can't explain this sensation in a satisfactory manner. But maybe you understand. I just want to be appreciated or judged or whatever on what I contribute to the world around me, not on my attempts to revamp my body.

And yes, I'm still interested in doing that. (I'm not a hypocrite, I'm just multi-faceted, people! I swear.)

I hate it that my outsides don't reflect my inner image of myself, and that my fabulous eccentricity just doesn't seem to translate as accurately when I'm fat me versus thinner me. And plus-size clothes? Are a bitch. Not to mention expensive. No $2.50 camisoles from Forever 21 for me.

Is it back to Weight Watchers (Round 3 this year) for Comrade GoGo? Can I view the whole enterprise as the game for grownups that it really is and find some private amusement and extra motivation in that perspective? Or will the inherent condescension of a group leader speaking to me like I'm a child who's never heard the word "fiber" drive me to madness yet again? Will the soccer moms nattering about 1-Point snack cakes push me to stab myself repeatedly in the face with a kitten heel?

This game needs a name!