I’m Not Okay

::queue song::

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qRFhNZNu_xw

Okay so the song doesn’t really relate… but I’m NOT okay.

I AM NOT OKAY AND I AM TIRED OF NEVER FEELING OKAY AND I WOULD GIVE USE OF MY LEGS TO FEEL OKAY FOR JUST A FUCKING MINUTE.

I’m tired and irritable and I want to scream and throw shit and hurt people. There’s a PC that’s been sitting on my desk at work, and if I had less control of myself I’d take it and go beat a coworker to death with it. I don’t even care which coworker… but I’d beat their skull in with a PC.

I just want to hurt people. I want people to hurt because I hurt and there’s no wound to blame it on. It’s just fucked up emotional turmoil that no one understands or cares about, and it’s got me all fucked up.

Why?

Because this is my life. This is going to be life until such a time as my life ends. This isn’t “the summer I was kinda sad” or some little pothole in the generally good life that is mine. This is my severe mental illness that never goes away, and never gets noticeably better, and will never have a fucking cure. I’m just damned to go through the rest of life feeling hopeless and shitty and impulsively getting drunk so I don’t feel hopeless and shitty for a couple of hours.

Friday I got my bangles back from fuccboi. I call him that, because that’s what I see him as now. He was nice enough, to be honest. We had a couple drinks and I invited him to the gig I was going to, because after three Saisons I was bored and I didn’t care if he tagged along, so long as I didn’t have to bring him back to that side of town. He agreed to cab/Uber/Lyft home. I invited Bird. I got drunk. It was great. 130 came and I went home, and reminded fuccboi I wasn’t taking him home. Somehow he managed to get a ride from Bird… and good for her, being a better person than me, but I was manic and drunk and I don’t give a fuck.

Saturday and Sunday all I did was sit high out of my mind and binge watch Adam Ruins Everything. It’s weird, because I actually felt pretty good when I got up on Saturday, but I still couldn’t DO anything. I sat there for two days, binge eating, and only left the house to go to a movie with mom, where I also ate. I felt like a worthless piece of shit on Sunday evening… and I was correct about that.

All the shit I want to do, all the goals I have for the next year, and all I could fucking do was nothing this weekend.

Don’t get me wrong, sometimes you deserve to do nothing. Nothing can be great… this was not great. I could have cleaned up the backyard, done something in the basement, folded the rest of my clothes, mopped, vacuumed, cleaned the bathroom, LITERALLY ANYTHING, but no…

I got up this morning and decided this has GOT to end. It sounds motivational, but mostly I’m just pissed off at myself. I’m officially so fat I am sometimes out of breath just trying to wipe my ass. That’s not an exaggeration, that’s the reality of my body trying to maneuver all this fat around so I can reach and most of it cramming into my chest cavity against my diaphragm. That’s too fat. It’s official. It’s too fat. And this weekend? Too much wasted time. Fucking wasted all that time that I could have done something with. And it’s gotta stop, because if it doesn’t stop I have no reason to live.

I talk about suicide a lot. Do you know why? Because I think about suicide a lot. My life is already so fucking meaningless that the only reasons I’m still around is so my mom doesn’t kill HERself, and because I have dogs that I don’t want going back to shelter care. I’m not here because life has meaning, or because life is secretly beautiful, or anything so wonderful as that. I’m here because dying is inconvenient at the moment, but if I’m just going to give up why let my mom watch as I slowly kill myself with food and depression, I could save us both a tortured journey to my grave.

I weighed 288.8 this morning. That’s officially the fattest I’ve ever been in my entire life. I literally didn’t move this weekend. That’s officially the laziest I’ve ever been in my entire life. I’m turning into my grandmother. I just need to get on disability and be addicted to daytime court shows. I can die in my chair, suffocating on my own neck fat. That’s not how she died, but it’s the image I have of her burned into my brain from childhood… just drinking coffee and falling asleep with a lit cigarette in her hand. I loved my grandmother, but I never want to be that. If I’m going to be that, I’d rather be dead.

So if my life is going to be me, not being emotionally okay ever again, I might as well torture myself down to normal people sizes. I’d settle for a Torrid zero, which is a large… a size 12… It’s not the 130 lbs I’ve always wanted to be… but it’s a lot fucking better than here. It’s 3 dress sizes… it’s a lot… but honestly… it’s not like I’m doing anything better with my time, am I?

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Mediocre Life Choices

So, it turned out I know how to ride the metaphorical bike that is doing the sex.

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The following entry is a brief recount of my date last night and the breaking of my over 700 day celibacy streak. It’s not going to be real graphic, but it’s gonna be kind of gross.

You’ve been warned.

So I’ve been talking to this guy via text for over a week. He’s nice, he’s funny, he doesn’t know what red eye gravy is, and while he’s overwhelmingly normal, he’s not a bad conversationalist. I was legit excited for our date. I got all prettied up and went out to meet him with high hopes of maybe finding a boyfriend person… like the fucking sap I am when no one is looking.

Let’s get one thing straight: He’d not a bad dude.

In person he’s still nice and funny; and while not as good in person, he’s still a decent conversationalist (I have no idea if that sentence was punctuated correctly and I’m too lazy to reword it). Everything was totally fine, until he went to the bathroom, came back and wanted to sit next to me instead of across from me. That was a red flag for me… needy red flag… Still, whatever. I invited him to go to an art show I was interested in, but it was a cash bar so we never made it there… Finding an ATM takes effort, and who the fuck carries cash anymore? As the night went on, though, I was bored of sitting in the bar. So we went back to his house.

We played a little Crash Bandicoot, and then put on Alien 3… and he kept wanting to cuddle. I know that it’s probably some daddy-issue related weirdness with me, but I just don’t really like cuddling. I thought maybe if I let him kiss me he’d stop trying so hard, but HIS MOUTH WAS ENORMOUS. Like, I also already know that I’m weird cuz I don’t really dig tongue in my mouth, but his mouth literally covered mine. My face was just wet. It wouldn’t have been if I was like, YAAAS GIMME DAT TONGUE, but I’m not that person, so I had a wet face. So I’m a lil grossed out about that, he still won’t stop trying to cuddle me into the sofa, so I just decided FUCK IT.

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So… the idea was get it done and get out. That’s worked in the past, and it doesn’t have an effect on whether I enjoy myself, it’s just a good bypass for cuddling… but that is not how this went down

I thought I’d had sex with a fat guy before… and after this experience, I had not, but I have now.

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FIRST OF ALL he was trying to be seductive, but he pinned me down to the sofa and the weight of his body hurt my lungs. Literally, I couldn’t breathe and his big ass mouth kept covering up my face, so I was real excited when he suggested the bedroom, but he continued to vaguely suffocate me between his enormous mouth and the weight of his body. But I’m a good person, and I’m a big girl, so I can overlook that, right?

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SECOND OF ALL, MOTHERFUCKERS, our bodies didn’t fit together. Have you ever tried to picture an atypical couple having sex? Like I had a friend who was under 5′ and like 120 soaking wet, and she was dating this 300 lb 6′ tall guy for a while, and I would wonder how they made that work… Well, not all bodies DO work. If this were the wild he’d be S.O.L. for mating with me, because his hips are wider than mine. So like, we managed a half-ass, very suffocative missionary for a while, but me on top was a bust, because I couldn’t get my legs around him and still have leverage to move, and doggie style didn’t work because his stomach got in the way. Fat men need to be very well hung to have sex easily,untitled.png I now know. The struggle for them is real.

TO FINISH THINGS OFF he’s a freaking bear. I got suffocated by a bear. I dunno that I’ve addressed this, but I have qualms with body hair. I try really hard not to, because to be honest I don’t really shave like 90% of the time, but my body hair is blonde, soft, and sparse. This guy’s body hair was none of those things… It was dark, coarse, and plentiful, and it just grossed me out a little. With everything else going on this was definitely the least of my problems and the easiest to overlook, but it was still a problem for me. I was so not into it.

BONUS NOTE It’s good to know that any guy will still blindly accept that I probably definitely totally for realsound like a hentai character when I’m having sex. (/s) I don’t, when I’m legit having fun, but I keep thinking as I get older someone will be like, you’re faking so hard right now, but they never do. Just blind acceptance all over the place.

TO BE CLEAR it wasn’t the worst date or sexual encounter I’ve ever had, but it falls very short of the best.

Here I was being so worried about my performance, I didn’t really consider someone else would have problems, or that would turn out like some terrible scene in a bad romantic comedy.

In conclusion, it was a mediocre life choice and not how I wanted to end my sexless streak. I shoulda waited to see if I could even deal with his touchy-feely nature, but I was in such a hurry to break my celibacy that I just jumped into it.

That’s also vaguely how I lost my virginity… overzealous and just wanting to get it over with more than anything.

I dunno that I’m still interested in the dude. He really wanted me to stay and cuddle and stuff, but I was real into going home… Gonna have to think real hard about this… Seems shitty to ditch someone because the sex isn’t good, but people do that, right?

I have an eating disorder.

I watched a YouTube video over a week ago, and I’m still thinking about it. I don’t usually watch a lot of The Gabby Show, but it popped up and I was interested. It’s interesting to me how many people are struggling, especially the number of people willing to voice their struggles. I like Gabby; she’s full of stories. I didn’t expect her to be the kind of person that would have an eating disorder, much less talk about it openly on YouTube. I knew Shane Dawson struggled with food and weight and liking himself. I know that Hannah Hart speaks a lot of about how she deals with negative feelings and trying to just feel better. I know Markiplier goes out of this way to let his fans know that he’s got problems and he has to deal with them, but that he hopes his fans have to deal with less. I like these YouTubers for these reasons. I like people that are amazing in spite of being fragile. It’s important to me.

It was hard for me to think about Gabby having an eating disorder, but I wasn’t sure why it was so difficult to think about. It wasn’t until later when I was in the grocery store that I realized it’s because she doesn’t LOOK like she has an eating disorder. She’s not crazy thin. She doesn’t look gaunt and drawn. Her teeth aren’t rotting out of her head. She doesn’t look like she’s in trouble. I fell victim to the most basic denial reasoning, and I should know better. I should know better than anyone that you can look totally fine and be dying inside. Your outside appearance doesn’t have to dictate anything except that you want to seem normal.

Let me take you through a trip to the grocery store with me.
A, I’m a fat girl. Let’s start with that, so you can picture me appropriately. I’m not just fat in the middle, or just have a large bottom half… I’m fat in an all over kind of way. On top of that, I’m self-conscious as shit, so I spend an inordinate amount of time looking around to see if anyone is looking at me an judging my food choices.
B, I always get a small cart, because there is less room to put things in. Plus, I always start in the produce section, because if I fill my space with vegetables I have less room for danger foods. I pick up fruit and stare at it. If it’s a banana, all I can think of are the calories. If it’s citrus or apples, I think about the sugar content. If it’s berries or grapes, I think about how well I can portion eating (which is NOT WELL). In the end, I usually put the fruit back. From the produce section we go to the bakery.
C, I only shop the clearance section. If nothing looks good, I move on in disappointment. If something smells like garlic, I pick it up. In the meat department I only shop clearance, trying to find things that freeze well. I can spend twenty minutes at both clearance spots pondering if I really want or need anything, usually just to pick something up and come back to drop it off later.
D, The rest of the store is me picking things up at random, agonizing about everything I even think of touching, and then trying to be sure I have what I actually came for. At the end of the trip, I circle back through the store again and put back as much of my cart as I can.

In theory, it probably doesn’t sound like a bad idea. You pickup what you think you want, look at your cart at the end, and empty what you don’t need. My cart usually ends up with celery, some kind of fried or sweet item I don’t need but convinced myself I deserve, and Gold Peak Diet Tea.

When I’m out with friends, if they’re going to get food before something, I make up an excuse for being late. If we’re out late and they wanna grab a bite to eat, I make up a reason to go home immediately. On dates, I dodge any dinner invitation. This has lead to a few people being insulted that I want to go out instead of going to their place for dinner… but to those people I say, “Bitch, even if I ate in front of people, I wouldn’t go to your house! I don’t know you! This is how horror movies start, you stupid oaf!” But I digress… I don’t eat in public, unless it’s with my mom, and even then I try to eat the smallest bites possible so as not to look like “that fat girl wolfing down a burger without chewing.”

Don’t get me wrong. I’m under no delusion that I’m eating healthy. After buying my celery, I almost always pop over to Chipotle, ordering a bowl and some tacos under the guise of taking food to my mom, and then go home and binge eat everything, including the celery. I then spend as long as I can afterwards trying NOT TO EAT ANYTHING AT ALL. The point is that if you observe me… you’d have no idea how I got this big or maintain it. No one ever sees me eat.

I dunno where I’m going with this…

Don’t let someone’s outside appearance make you think they’re not hurting.
Everyone has problems… and they manifest in different ways.
Just let people be.

Also, if you are suffering, seek help.
I’ve sought a lot of help, and I’m very self-aware… I’m not cured, but I’m better than I’ve previously been. Don’t be scared of help… It’ll be okay.

Three MFing Pounds.

Life has been hard, as of late. I’m not really sure why I feel this way, to be honest. I mean, yeah, we have a new GM that’s kind of trying to fix everything at once, but that hasn’t really affected me THAT MUCH. I’ll have to do a little more IT work, because he let the company we were using go… but other than that… whatever.

I’ve just been depressed, recently. Can’t seem to break it for more than a day, and of course being UP for a day means I crash the next day. I’ve been trying to diet and exercise… and I honestly think that’s a contributing factor.

Now, let me clarify… It’s not the diet that depressed me, but the fact that I kept to the diet and exercise for seven days, I gained 3 lbs instead of losing anything. Before anyone says it, I don’t think it’s me gaining muscle mass. I’ve been walking, not weight lifting. Trying to get as close to 10k steps as I can. Closer to 6-8k most days, but that’s still way more than I ever used to move. You’d think I’d drop half a pound or something… not gain three motherfucking pounds. It’s discouraging as fuck.

On top of that, I have a weirdness with exercise. People always say the same stupid shit about exercise to people that don’t like to exercise.

If you keep at it, you’ll learn to love it and you’ll get addicted to it.

Bitch, no I will not. Stop telling me that. Do you know how quickly people get addicted to heroin? Almost immediately. Nicotine? Pretty quick. Gym? Fuck you. I’ve been trying to get addicted to exercising for 10+ years. Still hasn’t taken. I sometimes manage to develop a habit for months to a year, but I’ve never been addicted to it. I never CRAVE to exercise. I have to negotiate with myself over it, or berate myself into submission to do it. I never feel GLAD I exercised. I never get done and think, “Yeah, I wish I could feel like this all the time.” I always hate it. I always get done and just start debating taking up meth or cocaine, both of which are much more addictive and effective for weight loss.

Maybe it’s just me.
I can’t think of a single good association I’ve ever had with exercise since I was a kid, so maybe I have just been conditioned to hate it. #Pavlov
Maybe it’s because I’m bipolar, so my brain doesn’t release endorphins like it should.
All I know is that I’m really motherfucking tired of being told exercise is addictive and NEVER being able to get myself addicted to it.
No. No it motherfucking is not. If it is, then that shit isn’t universal, so you should still stop saying it. You’re just making me feel broken, and I have enough issues getting motivated.

The only way I’m any good at exercise is to be angry. Tell me I can’t do something, I’ll do it or literally die trying just to shut your stupid fucking face. I’m like She-Hulk or something. Thing is, though, I can’t be that angry every single god damn day. It’s a form of mania. After mania, I fucking crash. SO… yeah, I can go on that 7 mile hike with you and rage my way through it, but for the next week I will only have the energy to get up, go to work, come home, and cry till I fall asleep. That’s my reality. I don’t like it, but I can’t change it.

The diet hasn’t been bad. I’m kind of used to the eating habits, now. To the point that I had Chipotle yesterday, and it wasn’t even very good. Like, I just wished I’d cooked instead of getting it. It wasn’t bad by any means. I just would have prolly enjoyed my own cooking better, and it would have had less calories. Lesson learned.

Maybe I’ll just stop eating lunch and live off caffeine. I have to lose weight, and I’m not interested in being healthy about it. I’ve never wanted to be healthy. I don’t wanna be fit. I just wanna be rail thin. If I had a genie… my first wish would be, “I wanna be a size small with C-cup boobs forever.” People don’t get that concept. It’s how you can tell they’ve never been fat. I don’t wanna be able to run a 5k. I don’t wanna eat healthy greens. I don’t wanna eat heart healthy. I don’t really care about living a long time. I just wanna be thin.

But I also want to eat food I like.

The two don’t really go together.

My doctor once did a genetic test on me to see what foods my body would digest most effectively. It’s supposed to be a scientific approach to weight loss, because you just change over to foods you’re genetically pre-disposed to digest effectively, and you should lose some weight and feel better with only minimal efforts. My diet was a VERY low-carb Mediterranean diet, and it would have worked… because I’d rather NOT EAT than eat most of the things on my food list. Not terribly fond of mackerel and olives with bitter leafy greens you’re not allowed to cook with brown sugar and pork fat. Just… gross.

I’m gonna try this shit for another week… if I don’t lose some weight, I’m just going to stop eating lunch. That means, since I already don’t eat breakfast, I will be eating just dinner. Cuts my cals to about 800 on a bad day… if I don’t lose weight eating that little… I dunno. Maybe I’ll just take a knife and cut all the fat off like that girl in the ABCs of Death and see if I bleed out. Least I’d die pretty.

Is Fat Better Than Flab?

Guys, I’m scared to lose weight.

So my weight loss goals go unachieved every single year. I might drop some weight, but I haven’t lost any significant weight since 2009. There’s a myriad of reasons for it, including a binge eating habit and a lack of activity being up there at the top of reasons I struggle with my weight, but there’s a bigger reason that no one really understands until they’re looking down the barrel of it…

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This picture comes from an article about a woman that lost 110 lbs. This is what her body looked like afterward… just extra skin everywhere. She tried to exercise it away to no avail, and finally she had to have four surgeries to remove 10 lbs of skin. The end product is still not what she thought she’d get, but it’s better. (Click to read the whole article, it’s great.)

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So… Doing the math… if I were to lose the 125 lbs that I want to lose, this is my future. I’d also like to point out that she had breast augmentation to get those boobs back. She lost all her boobs, as you can see in the previous picture. So, I’ll be flabby and flat-chested, instead of fat with boobs.

WHY WOULD I WANT TO SENTENCE MYSELF TO THIS?

No one told me, growing up, that this could happen. I was always kind of a fat kid. I could have been a thin teenager and maybe I wouldn’t have become a fat adult until way later in life. It’s only recently that I’ve been made aware that this is my impending reality if I ever get my shit together. I was always told that my skin, being young as it is, would snap back into place. Now, I’m on the wrong side of 25, and it’s officially too late to go back.

Do I still want to lose weight? Yes. Of course I do. I’d love to not be fat, but I don’t really know if I’m more upset by the idea of being fat my entire life, or losing weight just to end up with miles of skin covered in stretch marks that will never fade, that someone will probably have to CUT off of my person. I mean, neither is particularly appealing.

I thought of this, not just because I read the article, but because I’m looking to start hiking this year… Which I hate and don’t want to do, but I said I would do it, so I’m going to do it… But if you couple my diet plans with hiking, I should lose weight… Which is great! Except that I’m terrified out of my mind to end up a pile of skin. I don’t think I could deal with that, mentally. I think I’d wake up one morning and just kill myself, because if you can’t be happy being thinner, then what the fuck is going to make you happy?

I know it sounds overdramatic…. and I’d have to actually a substantial amount of weight before skin would be a problem for me… but… I dunno. It just makes losing weight seem so pointless.

Not to mention all the fat people that lose weight and then die of heart problems… Momma Cass didn’t die from choking on a sandwich. She lot a ton of weight, was really healthy for once in her life, and her heart gave out. John Pinette did the same thing more recently.

It just feels… so fucking pointless to try and get my shit together…  Flab. Death. That feeling of perpetual unhappiness even when you achieve you life goals, because life is really quite meaningless and we’re all just killing time and distracting ourselves from death….

I think I’m having an existential crisis.

Charts

So… Back in 2009 I joined a weight loss site. That year looked like this.

2009-2010

I started at 235, developed the habit of either not eating for days, or going on a binge and then spending the next 30 minutes throwing up as much as possible (even though I later learned that once food hits your mouth, you’re fucked). It wasn’t at all healthy, but everyone was so proud of me when I dipped down into the 190s. It didn’t matter to them how I got there, since they didn’t see it. They saw me drink a coke everyday. It’s weird how no one even questions how someone might drop weight so fast.

As you can see, it didn’t last. It got to a point where my body just threw up every time I ate. It scared me, and the weight started to creep back toward the end of the year.

I kept the account that I signed up for in 2009, and would update it. Not to a whole lot of purpose, but just occasionally felt like making myself want to die, I guess. There were a few times I tried to lose weight again, but I couldn’t commit to eating nothing anymore. I didn’t relish the pain in my guy anymore. It was just reminiscent of that horrible place where I would throw up every time I ate… so over the years (2009-2015) my chart looked like this.

2009-2015

So where I started at 235, which was 35 lbs above my high school weight in 2006, I topped out earlier this year at 280.

280 is officially unacceptable. I know some people will say that over 200 should have been unacceptable, but to those people I say fuck off. You don’t know my life. The point is that I came within 20 lbs of being a 300 lb person and that, for me, is unacceptable. I’ve been a fat person my entire life, but something about 300lbs just floored me.

Was it my rock bottom? Was it some kind of wake up call?
I dunno. I’m pretty sure I could get substantially lower (fatter) before I’d call it my end all rock bottom moment of absolute change. It was a shitty moment, though. I don’t know how I let it creep up so high. It’s like waking up one morning to see a strange looking back at you… and that stranger wants donuts.

So, in June I started looking into diets. Over the course of my life I’d tried them all. From Ana and Mia diets, to fad diets, to beach body, to weight watchers, to coffee and cigarettes, to paleo, to vegan, to whatever. It seemed to me that finding a diet that worked for a long run of life was impossible. How are you supposed to stick to all these thing when you’re also trying to live your life. Yes, being thin would terrific, but I also really like tacos… and when my friends and I go out, we like to drink and get tacos… so, your diet of “you can never drink alcohol again or eat anything that may or may not have touched a fryer” wasn’t going to work for me. I get that you can’t do that shit everyday, but what is life without cheat days?

After a lot of investigation, I settled on Slim Fast. I associated it with older women that say they’re dieting, but really just drink themselves to death, but when I looked into it, it’s a pretty sound kind of diety thing. You’re getting good nutrition intake… and if you’re going out you just skip your shakes and snacks to use the calories for whatever. It even had good longevity, since people can go off it and if they feel they’ve gained it’s not going to wreck your life to start it again. I had always liked the concept of calorie counting, but this was easier since I was only calculating a 500 cal meal and some 100 cal snacks.

And so, I present to you my chart from when I started dieting in July to now.

June-Oct

Yeah, there’s been turbulence. That’s not a straight line. It’s not the most direct path. But anyone can see the trend, here. I’m losing. I’m losing without starving myself. I’m losing without even sticking to Slim Fast or a constant calorie intake.

At this point, I keep Slim Fast around, but I’m not strict with it. Mostly I track my calories. My goal for the day is 1200. If I’m under 1400 I’m happy with it. If I’m under 2000, I live with it. Not everyday is a winner. Some days I want Coke and Chipotle. Some days I eat a cucumber and drink a lot of water, and come in crazy under calories. But… I’m losing.

As of this morning I’m under 260. 20 lbs down.
I also fit in a smaller pant size. So… that’s pretty cool for me.

This shit is hard. I can’t honestly tell you if dieting or quitting smoking is harder for me. Both make me feel like life is empty and pointless when I think about them too long.
I am, admittedly, doing substantially better at dieting than quitting smoking, though… >_>

So… there ya go.

Weight Loss Update

So, I went on a diet hiatus.
Things have been shitty and when things are shitty I don’t feel like cooking, and when I don’t feel like cooking I eat a lot of Chipotle and drink a lot of real Coca Cola and don’t give a damn what I’m eating.

What happened, though…. was nothing.
I gained no weight back, hovering around 265-266. While I wasn’t actively watching what I ate, at all, I was still tracking my weight a few times a week and trying to reach a 30 minute minimum of activity a day. I figured that if the weight started coming back I’d get upset and fly into a diet spree, but it just didn’t happen that way.

As of yesterday, I’m back on the “trying to lose” wagon.I’m still not really eating what I SHOULD be, such as me having M&Ms for breakfast today, but I’m watching the number of cals I’m consuming. I’m going to try to start cooking again, probably tonight (cuz I already thawed out food that I must now cook). I lost, somehow, 3 lbs overnight last night, and that’s great motivation to start being more conscious again and trying to lose again. Enough hiatus.

I think my break was probably good for me, though, since I do have so much that I’m trying to lose. It proved to me that I’m learning better portions of food, even if it’s not diet food, and that I can maintain my weight loss. I think it also gave my skin a little time to adjust to my being 15 lbs lighter… and I’m hoping things like that will keep me from having an excess skin problem as I lose.

I’m going to look into joining a gym, soon. Hoping there are pricing specials. I’d like to get back into weight lifting. I like weight lifting, and while in the past I’ve been deterred by the looks I get from people, I think I would just like to do it again. I’m good at it, and I like that ache you get from it. There’s a 24 gym by my house that isn’t a 24 Hour Fitness, and Imma look into them for a potential option. I don’t think I’ll run into people I know there.

FLASHBACK: In high school I took a weight lifting class and really enjoyed it. I was genuinely good at it, too. The problem was that the rest of the girls in my class were very thin and petite and would snicker at my ability to lift more than even about half the guys in the class. I was already the fat girl in the class, and then they made me feel like shit for being good at weight lifting. My self esteem wasn’t as good back then, and I took that very personally, so I stopped really trying to do anything in gym classes. This was my third attempt at a class I thought I’d like just to be ridiculed by idiot teenage girls. Later, after college, when I was going to the gym regularly, I started lifting with the guys that showed up the gym around 10. They were very nice to me and helped me out once in a while, but I started to notice people were staring at me. I was still fat. I’ve always been fat. I was also the only female looking person doing bench presses. All the other women at the gym seemed to stick to Zumba and the elliptical. Apparently weights are a man’s game, and cardio is a woman’s. While I like the elliptical, and at one point would do it for 2 hours before lifting or swimming, it just made me uncomfortable. So again I quit.

I’m also considering trying to find a dance class… but that’s still in the air. I don’t mean Zumba. I mean like a real dance class… but IDK that I will have time or money for that.

Anyways… that’s me.