Why does it have to be so hard?
I walked past the bakery today and noticed pumpkin cheesecake. Um…just kill me. Take a knife, stab me, beat me to a pulp with a baseball bat, chop me into little bits, then put me in the meat grinder to be made into burgers.
I wanted it. I wanted it bad. And no, I can’t have it, because I have no self control around it. I’ve been cursed with a sweet tooth. If I knew which one it was I’d yank it out!
I have to deprive myself of 3,500 calories just to lose one pound. UGH… It’s all fun and games until your stomach mushrooms like an atomic bomb and your jeans don’t fit.
It’s coming off so slowly. I know…I know, one to two pounds a week is a healthy way to take it off, but it’s going so slow I feel like I’m a hippopotamus time traveller going backward.
We live in a society where we are used to having instant results. That’s not going to happen. It could take me over a year to get to the weight I want to be. Then maintaining it is a whole other nightmare.
Yes, it’s a nightmare. Why? Because I don’t want to be freakin’ fat. Ha ha! I don’t want to gain it back. I’ve heard so many failure stories and I don’t want to add myself to that list of losers. And it’s not the good kind of loser.
I realise I should be focusing on my accomplishment of losing forty-two pounds. I should also be proud of myself for having some self control around the pumpkin cheesecake.
I just have to glance at a carb and I start to look like I belong in a Jurassic theme park. High fructose corn syrup, partially hydrogenated oil and bleached white flour seems to be in everything.
I feel a disconnect. I love food but I also fucking resent it at the same time.
I feel like a woman in labour and food is my husband. I’m crushing his hand and screaming, “YOU DID THIS TO ME!”
I wonder if I will ever have a good relationship with food or if I’ll always be headed to divorce court?
I know I can’t be the only one who feels this way.