I've gained another pound. I'm now the highest weight I have been since birthing my first kid. It's enough to make me want to quit. Honestly. Yesterday I didn't sit down until 10:00pm because I was busy walking dogs and working out. What's the point in wasting my evenings running and working out if I get no results. What's the point at all if I just keep getting heavier.
Andrea suggests eating even more calories, and I've decided to try it for two more weeks. Two weeks of eating when I'm not hungry and losing my evenings, and working my ass off mentally and emotionally. Two weeks. If after two weeks I have gained or stayed the same I'm trying something else.
Fasting, starving myself, HcG shots - I don't care - I need to drop some weight fast - bad things are going to happen. I've already said how my weight is the thing that drops me into a depression, and that's where I am today. I don't weight myself during the week for this very reason - I know I can't handle it emotionally. But once a week I like to check the progress I'm making...or I guess, lack thereof.
IDK... I'm frustrated and I want to give up. I'm fat and disgusted with myself. My clothes, my fat clothes, are getting tighter - soon they will be goal clothes. I'm done buying clothes, I'm done feeling good about my body. I don't feel at all pretty, or attractive, or beautiful. I'm now even more scared to be intimate with Andrea, or to change in front of people. I'm so ashamed of my body, so ashamed of myself.
I'm just a sad...fat..."girl"