Maybe I write too many times a day. Maybe I don’t write enough. Maybe I should wait until the end of the day,
until all of my emotions have passed before I publish a post. Thursday I was proud. Friday I was fine. Saturday and Sunday I was sick – but fine. And then today – BOOM. The whole fucking thing has imploded. And maybe I’ll be fine tomorrow. I thought about not even posting this. But then I thought – that’s what this whole
thing is about, right? The good AND the
bad. The ups AND the downs. This is supposed to be the real struggle of
trying to lose weight, right? Well
today, this FatGirl is struggling.
I want to throw this motherfucking scale away. I want to cut my measuring tape into half inch increments. I want to throw my apple through the fucking window and break something. I want to chuck that jug of protein powder over the fence and across 75. I am sad. I am angry. I am depressed. And I’m tired.
I am tired of trying and not seeing results. Oh, I’m aware that I’ve lost a pound here,
and an inch there. But when you look at
the bigger picture – I’m in the same fucking place I was in last year. Same 220s.
Same 40 some-odd inches. Same fucking pair of pants I’ve owned for
years. I’ve upped calories, I’ve dropped
calories. I’ve done low fat, no fat, low
cal, low carb. I’ve walked, run, swam,
ellipitcal’d, personal trained, 30 day shredded, and weight lifted. I’ve done every day, I’ve done every other
day. I’ve tried everyone else’s program,
I’ve tried my own program.
And here I sit.
The SAME fucking FatGirl from a
year ago. I want to quit. I REALLY, *REALLY* want to quit. And don’t everyone jump my shit all at once
here, because I’m not. But if I am being
honest with myself… I don’t want to do this anymore. I don’t want to yo-yo anymore. I don’t want to wear spanks every day of my
life. I don’t want to feel like crying
every time I look in the mirror. I don’t
want to dress in black any more. I’m
tired of waiting for someone to notice. I
am tired of wondering what it sounds like when I run on a treadmill at the
gym. I am tired of wondering if people
are staring at my stomach when I have to do squats.
Am I not doing enough?
Am I not committed enough? Should
I be doing two-a-days 7 days a week?
Once a day every day? Every other
day? I am not going to say names, but
after my first post this morning, I received a PM on MFP from a “friend” of
mine. She told me that I am too fat to
run. Who fucking says that? How horrible is that? To be too fat to run?!?! Maybe that is why I have failed so many times! Maybe it’s because at this weight, my body is
incapable of it? Should I do fat people
exercises? What does that even mean?
I am literally sitting at my desk sobbing – hoping that no
one that sits around me notices. I want
to quit so bad – but I won’t. Because
that’s why I am here today. Because I
quit this time last year. And if I quit
now, I will be saying the same thing next year.
I wish I would have stuck with
it. But I am so confused now. Should I be doing something else? Should I just walk, or do the elliptical or
something? Am I really hurting myself by
wanting to run?
Or – am I wasting my time?
Will this ever happen for me?
Will there ever come a day that I am proud of myself, and my body, and
what I have accomplished? Because today,
that hope is diminishing fast.
I just want to go to bed.
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