My name is Shannon and I am a petty bitch...

I am a petty bitch. I am putting that out there for all to see. It's the truth. Allow me to explain. About two years ago, I joined Weight Watchers and lost thirty pounds. I felt awesome and confident and attractive and proud and invincible--all emotions I had not encountered in years. I loved it. However, as with all good things, it was not to last. In the past year, I have slowly packed the pounds back on. And then some. I am not sure what happened. I rediscovered a love of ice cream. I learned a new skill--baking. I uncovered a previously-suppressed affection for pasta. In short, I remembered how much I like to eat. I am a foodie, at heart. I like nice restaurants. I enjoy good food. I love a glass (or two or three) of wine.

All of this is well and good. Despite having a closet full of incredibly cute clothes that no longer fit me....despite having to run out to Kohl's yesterday to buy some pants for work lest I begin answering calls in my skivvies....I am okay with it. Yes, I need to lose weight. Yes, I need to eat healthier. But all in all, I am okay with it.

At least that's what I tell myself. Today, I came to a stunning realization. I might just not be okay with it. I may just be blatantly lying to myself...and stupidly believing my blatant lies. I have a coworker who recently lost quite a bit of weight. Prior to her transformation, she was pretty close in size to me. Not grossly obese, but certainly pleasantly plump. Now she is quite thin and looks incredible. As a matter of fact, as I rounded the corner to head to my Cubicle of Woe this morning, I barely recognized her standing there. She really does look amazing.

For the past week, my coworker has come over and stood at my cubicle every single morning regaling me with stories about her newest weight loss benefits. She does this right away in the morning as I am still logging into my computer, desperately sucking down my coffee, and trying to pry my uncooperative eyes open. Now, I am not really a morning person. Coming to work at 7:00 in the morning is heinous enough without a visit from Pollyanna Plump-No-More. However, I try to be nice and accommodating (without being too accommodating---I certainly don't want to encourage her crack-of-dawn visits). I try to resist the urge to chuck my coffee cup at her head. I really do. I smile, even as my jaw is clenched to the point of spasming. I smile nonetheless. But it is getting progressively more difficult.

This morning, she was rattling on about how she is finding all of these new clothes in her closet that she never knew she had because they had always been too tight to wear. So she has a whole new wardrobe! Sweet. She tells me this as I am sitting in the khakis I bought at Kohl's yesterday in a size larger than I care to mention here. She then goes on to tell me, now that she is in the "maintenance" portion of her diet plan, she can finally have potatoes and peanut butter again. Apparently, the three ounces of boiled potatoes she had for dinner last night were simply divine. Big freaking deal. I had half a (family size) bag of Ruffles last night and they were the bomb.

See...I am a petty bitch. I should be happy about my coworker's accomplishments. I should be supportive of her. I should cheer her on. However, I just can't seem to get there. Try as I might, her morning visits annoy the hell out of me.

I am considering holding her down and force-feeding her Oreos. I'm bigger than she is now. I think I could take her.