Dear Last 5 Pounds,

Dear Last 5 Pounds,

I have ran,  I have pulled-up, and the most serious action: I have sweat! What more do you want from me? I am following all the last requests you have of me before you said you would go away. I'm ready for your exit, but you are taking your sweet little time. I'm sorry to say this, but I don't want you anymore. It's not you, it's me.

I'm just not 'feeling' you any more and to be honest, I think you are kind of weighing me down.  I will miss you in a 'what didn't kill me, made me stronger' kind of way...I guess you were convenient at the time. I could walk by construction workers without them cat calling, but most importantly, we had some yummy times. I could eat what ever I wanted, but man you are hungry.

I had made the hard decision of terminating you. It was tough, because I knew I would have to sacrifice a lot to get you to go away.

I have worked so hard the past year and a half. Now its just a waiting game. If I wanted to use puns, I would say its a "weighting" game, but I do not want to right now. No, this is tough Shannon.

Now, I know its hard to leave me. I took very good care of you. I fed you well. However, for the last year and a half I have tortured you. You hate fruit! You hate salad! You hate running, it makes you jiggle! I would have thought you would of packed up and left by now.

I am writing you to warn you the torture will never end. Until you leave, I will make your life hell.

Sincerely Shannon,

PS: We are running tomorrow.