Tired of being disappointed

I am so fucking discouraged today.  Over the weekend Matt replaced the batteries in my scale.  I had been able to avoid it all weekend, KNOWING damn good and well that It would have the same effect on me that it always does.  This morning, I couldn’t resist.  While I was getting ready for work, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror.  About 2 seconds later, I was stripped down and on the scale, waiting for the blinking to stop and the triumphant number to appeal.  I was waiting for something that would never come.  I was disgusted at the number that appeared.  217.  Really?  Fucking really?!?! 

I tried to talk myself down, realizing that I have been lifting (though, not in the last few days), and I changed my diet a few weeks ago.  I was trying to rationalize the disappointing number I had seen.  Once I got to work, it only got worse.  On my work computer is where I have the digital copies of all of my stats.  Weight tracking charts, measurements, Word documents on how to calculate everything.  So I pulled up my personal weight tracker, and it was enough to make me feel physically ill.  I weighed 223.8 on February 22.  That was Ash Wednesday, the first day of Lent, the first day of my 46 Day Shred.  I weighed 217 today.  I’ve only lost 6 pounds?!?!  All of this work.  All of the sacrifice.  All of the time and effort spent calculating and planning and cooking and eating and working out – for nothing. 

Well, it seems like nothing to me.  Not when I was dropping 10 pounds a month just a few months ago.  My clothes still look awful.  I have not lost a pant or shirt size.  I don’t feel any better naked.  Matt has stopped complimenting me – and I am just 4 weeks away from getting into a swim suit for the first time this year.  I wanted to be under 200 pounds by then.  If I have only lost 6 pounds in the last two months – how in the fuck am I going to lose 17 by June 1^st? 

I don’t want to go back to starving myself.  I don’t want to do this the wrong way.  But I sure as fuck don’t want to sit at my desk and cry anymore.  So that leaves me stuck.  I don’t know what the fuck to do.  Right now, all I want to do is quit.  But I know that won’t solve anything – and I will be sitting here next month crying again.  I am tired of other’s success stories, when I don’t have one of my own to tell.  And while I am happy for my friends on MFP who are finding success on their journeys, I am jealous, and bitter and disgusted with myself.  I can’t even bring myself to comment on others success anymore because I am filled with anger. 

I know this mood won’t last forever, but today isn’t just a Monday.  It’s a Monday that has me SO down, I ACTUALLY want to give up.  I will be taking the batteries out of my scale.  And while that may keep me from crying over a number that I intelligently know is NOT a true or fair representation of my weight, it’s not going to change the image in the mirror, the notches on the measuring tape, or the way my clothes fit.    

My heart is telling me to quit.  My head is telling me that is a phase my body is going through and to go to the gym tonight.  Only time will tell which fat and cholesterol clogged body part will win.