By the Numbers, Healthy Gamer

By the Numbers: OH GOD MY EYES!

WARNING: This post contains pictures of a frank nature. Viewer discretion is advised. 

So I missed a week’s update. For as short as these are, sometimes it’s difficult to find time to write stuff. I am giving myself a pass as it was a holiday week, but I have no such excuse for this week.

What I do have are some “before” pictures (read: current). I have backslid a little bit, but I am redirecting my energy flow to get back on track.

I’ll admit, I reeeeeeeally don’t like doing this. Pic posts are the worst (even the celebratory ones) for me, and these…well, don’t leave much to the imagination. No clothing (save boxers) to conceal/flatter/whatever, just hard ugly truth. The silver lining here is that I am strongly encouraged to push forward so that I can post pictures that horrify me (and you) less.

These are certainly not of me at my biggest, but nor are they me at my smallest so far. Don’t say you weren’t warned.

Not so much "six pack" as "keg"
Not so much “six pack” as “keg”























Ugh. Just, ugh.
Ugh. Just, ugh.























I am already regretting this and I haven't even published yet.  Sigh.
I am already regretting this and I haven’t even published yet. Sigh.























So that’s me in all of my unflattering glory. I can detect the scent of bile on the wind and for that I am sorry. See you next week.

On the face of her phone
Wileen programs a message to herself
so that when the alarm clock rings,
the screen flashes
Every day is one day less. 
Every day is one day less. 

Jordan tattoos the words “forgive me”
in thick black letters 
down the inside of his arm
so that when he looks down at his wrist
he will remember not to hate himself so much.
What they both keep forgetting
is that there is life after survival.

After Dave left,
Mary started sticking her face
between the film projector
and the movie screen
so that when the credits roll
she still gets to be somebody

When Tara’s past comes back, 
she mashes chalk into the sidewalk until her knuckles bleed.
She scribbles and scrapes and scribbles and scrapes
until the words take shape.
And this is what they say:
“I wanna die, motherfuckers
die, die, motherfuckers.
Hold tight if I love ya, 
cause it might not last long.” 



2 thoughts on “By the Numbers: OH GOD MY EYES!

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