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I’m off carbs because if I don’t go back to dieting I will become smothered in my own blubber, which would only compound my feelings of despair and hopelessness.

…But it makes me want to kill things. Poor Perfect Husband is resolutely making us large salads, liberally splashed with tomatoes and cheese and my favourite dressing, which I reluctantly eat in the most ungrateful manner imaginable.

I’m such a delight to live with.

In other news, my service dog houseguest of the week smells like skunk.

Because she got sprayed by a skunk.

But at least she is grateful when one feeds her, which is MORE THAN ANYONE CAN SAY ABOUT ME, UNLESS THEY COME BEARING MCDONALD’S.