...and try to be a little more positive and just a little lighter than the day before, and somehow the weeks fly by. Do I want my months to be a blur of weight loss and steam and pounds lost and gained? Not necessarily but you can't (or can you?) have it all. There are only so many hours in the day and between juggling work and my future and trying to safely and somewhat rationally get down to where I'd like to be in terms of weight, it doesn't leave much energy or time for me to do much else.
Anyway, I just wanted to jot down a little bit and thoughts on what's been going on. I'd like to keep things going nicely like this: wake up early, get a lot done, drink a little bit and restrict without going nuts, and just feel less like I'm being controlled by my ED and more like I have some say in what's going on in my life.
We'll see how long these good feelings last. I'm not trying to be skeptical or cynical, just practical.
Showing posts with label no excuses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label no excuses. Show all posts
Tuesday, March 5, 2013
Saturday, March 2, 2013
A New Month, A New Me!
Ha ha, just kidding! I'm still a fat mess, but at least I'm trying and figuring out how to manage my rotten ways and ridiculous, disordered eating, right?
See, what it boils down to is I'm an over-achiever...a "Type A" I guess is what they like to label folks with my personality traits. I don't like to be told what to do, I need to micro-manage, and I'm always looking for better and pushing myself to be the best. But the thing that makes me slightly different is I'm not competitive - I don't give a flying fuck what my peers are doing really and I don't want to necessarily have their lives or out do anyone or be better than another person.
Because really, who knows what someone is going through on the inside or what one's life is like behind those closed doors? If someone were to look at my fat ass, they'd think I was very fortunate, with an enviable situation and appealing (enough) body and desirable aspects to my life. They'd be right on the surface I guess but the daily torment/back-and-forth I put myself through is such shyte, I mean, who would really trade their lives for mine if they knew how I really am?
Anyway, what was I babbling about? Oh yes, I've tried kicking my vomiting cold-turkey. It lasted for a few days, then almost a few weeks, but I started again once a day and then I had to just stop eating altogether. I can't with the vomiting. It's tiring, and my allergies are acting up and it fucks with my throat so badly. Plus, I always try and grow my nails out a little as a deterrent from poking around my esophagus and I don't feel like ripping them off again so no more eating which equals no purging. Well, that's the plan, anyway...
But yeah, after being triggered by my husband's perverse, teenage-fucking ways and filing our taxes jointly (for the last time, I swear!), I've been very truthful to myself about my failed relationships and mommy/daddy/guilt issues and I have a plan of attack (kind of) in mind so I'm just chilling out, shopping too much, and trying to be social at least once a week before I finally head over to Tokyo.
I get it: life can be shitty and usually is for a majority of the world's population. Am I going to keep complaining and wallowing in my own fat and failure or am I going to reclaim my philosophy of "fuck the rest, just do your best" and fight for my own version of happiness? If you know me by now, I think you'll know the answer to that question...
See, what it boils down to is I'm an over-achiever...a "Type A" I guess is what they like to label folks with my personality traits. I don't like to be told what to do, I need to micro-manage, and I'm always looking for better and pushing myself to be the best. But the thing that makes me slightly different is I'm not competitive - I don't give a flying fuck what my peers are doing really and I don't want to necessarily have their lives or out do anyone or be better than another person.
Because really, who knows what someone is going through on the inside or what one's life is like behind those closed doors? If someone were to look at my fat ass, they'd think I was very fortunate, with an enviable situation and appealing (enough) body and desirable aspects to my life. They'd be right on the surface I guess but the daily torment/back-and-forth I put myself through is such shyte, I mean, who would really trade their lives for mine if they knew how I really am?
Anyway, what was I babbling about? Oh yes, I've tried kicking my vomiting cold-turkey. It lasted for a few days, then almost a few weeks, but I started again once a day and then I had to just stop eating altogether. I can't with the vomiting. It's tiring, and my allergies are acting up and it fucks with my throat so badly. Plus, I always try and grow my nails out a little as a deterrent from poking around my esophagus and I don't feel like ripping them off again so no more eating which equals no purging. Well, that's the plan, anyway...
But yeah, after being triggered by my husband's perverse, teenage-fucking ways and filing our taxes jointly (for the last time, I swear!), I've been very truthful to myself about my failed relationships and mommy/daddy/guilt issues and I have a plan of attack (kind of) in mind so I'm just chilling out, shopping too much, and trying to be social at least once a week before I finally head over to Tokyo.
I get it: life can be shitty and usually is for a majority of the world's population. Am I going to keep complaining and wallowing in my own fat and failure or am I going to reclaim my philosophy of "fuck the rest, just do your best" and fight for my own version of happiness? If you know me by now, I think you'll know the answer to that question...
Monday, January 14, 2013
Still Here, Never Stopped.
I have the link to this blog right on my bookmarks bar...I look at it every fracken day and chide myself for not taking just a moment to say something, anything, and not let this corner of the internet collect e-cobwebs. Since nobody says anything on Twatter or in the comments section, I honestly didn't think anyone even ever came on here anymore and just let it fall into disuse. I was genuinely surprised to see activity behind-the-scenes this month - new year's gumption making people consider my crazy tactics worth reading? Hah hah, let me stop flattering myself...
Anywho, I had my phone held hostage from new year's day after work until 4 days later when I had already bought the upgraded model. Some bitch held on to it and took her sweet time turning it in to someone else to get back to me - can you believe that? I can! People are ridiculous. I only bring it up again because I had a few random pictures from 2011 when I was at what I think (if I remember correctly) was my LW and I finally posted them to compare with now. I guess I'm about the same, but in my mind I was near death! Crazy what the body adapts to, hm? And it just further confirms the statement that memory is subjective and not to be trusted :-| I'm going to transfer all the pics and sell my old phone. I had considered using it as an over-sized mp3 player for the steam room, but I'd rather get the cash. *kanye shrug*
What else? I attempted one of my "epic binges" after abstaining from forcing myself to vomit pounds of liquid and unwanted food for an entire week - what...a...letdown! I didn't get much in (about an "average" meal) and knew I should have just kept starving. But it was more of a symbolic kind of purging anyway - I had to be sure that the highs I would get from eating were gone and that my restricting had replaced those endorphin releasing habits in my life. Happy to say it has! My swollen face and irritated scale are also overjoyed and I have no intention of over-eating as long as I have my wits about me. Do you know how exhausting it is to throw up all the time? Always cold then sleepy and hungry minutes after. Ugh! If I just stay empty, my body finally gets tired of grumbling and starts to eat itself or whatever it does.
Well, I'm going to check in on my days off, at the very least. Between this, Twatter, and tumblr, I think I'm more than preoccupied to avoid eating and to keep losing weight. Once I get down to 100 I swear I can drink and eat and do all that "normal" shit again. I said it before and I mean it (more or less): I'm trying to live happier and not die miserably. I pity any fool that dares get in my way....
Anywho, I had my phone held hostage from new year's day after work until 4 days later when I had already bought the upgraded model. Some bitch held on to it and took her sweet time turning it in to someone else to get back to me - can you believe that? I can! People are ridiculous. I only bring it up again because I had a few random pictures from 2011 when I was at what I think (if I remember correctly) was my LW and I finally posted them to compare with now. I guess I'm about the same, but in my mind I was near death! Crazy what the body adapts to, hm? And it just further confirms the statement that memory is subjective and not to be trusted :-| I'm going to transfer all the pics and sell my old phone. I had considered using it as an over-sized mp3 player for the steam room, but I'd rather get the cash. *kanye shrug*
What else? I attempted one of my "epic binges" after abstaining from forcing myself to vomit pounds of liquid and unwanted food for an entire week - what...a...letdown! I didn't get much in (about an "average" meal) and knew I should have just kept starving. But it was more of a symbolic kind of purging anyway - I had to be sure that the highs I would get from eating were gone and that my restricting had replaced those endorphin releasing habits in my life. Happy to say it has! My swollen face and irritated scale are also overjoyed and I have no intention of over-eating as long as I have my wits about me. Do you know how exhausting it is to throw up all the time? Always cold then sleepy and hungry minutes after. Ugh! If I just stay empty, my body finally gets tired of grumbling and starts to eat itself or whatever it does.
Well, I'm going to check in on my days off, at the very least. Between this, Twatter, and tumblr, I think I'm more than preoccupied to avoid eating and to keep losing weight. Once I get down to 100 I swear I can drink and eat and do all that "normal" shit again. I said it before and I mean it (more or less): I'm trying to live happier and not die miserably. I pity any fool that dares get in my way....
Monday, November 19, 2012
Days Off Are Tough
Since I have no friends and have momentarily given up on getting anything that I want in life so I can focus my energy on just not jumping off my hotel room's balcony, needless to say I've got quite a bit of free time on my hands and this makes it hard to a) not sleep all day and b) not eat all day. Ideally I should just lock myself in the steam room for 8 hours and be done with it all but I have to remember that it is not *my* private little torture chamber and really I don't have a right to get snippy at all the other people poking about, wondering how I can stay inside for so long.
So I steamed last night and early this morning and have just been locked inside my room, which (for now) is safe because I have nothing to eat or drink (other than a bottle of beer and 2 bottles of champagne) and don't want to miss any of these dysfunctional fuck ups' stories on television. It's a super whack way to spend one's time, I know, but whatever. Who really knows what's going on behind all these other closed doors anyway? Plus, there's been a nasty wave of vog hanging around the island that's fucking killing my sinuses/throat. It's been so irritated I cut down my puking (meh, for like a day or two) because I couldn't deal with how it was affecting my voice.
You know what's horrible? I eat out of boredom. I don't know what else to do with myself and it gives me a routine: get up to get the food, agonize over what to eat (is it spicy? How will it taste coming back up? Will I absorb the salt/fat quickly? How fast will I digest it? Etc.), eat eat eat, feel defeated/lethargic/comatose, battle with myself about throwing up, finally throw up, feel cold and crawl under the covers and wonder why I continue to waste money like this. But I know exactly how it got this bad: I'm lonely and have no outlet for my feelings or frustrations. Nobody wants to hear about another person's shit because chances are they have their own and really can't be bothered to take on some new burden. I get it. People are very self-centered these days...isolating ourselves to the point of madness in the way that we don't care about those around us. We see suffering and misery every day and are just numb to it. Heck, I'm numb to my own pathetic life to the point where it doesn't even seem real.
Anyway, time to weigh myself for the 7th time today. Maybe I magically lost another pound somehow through sighing and willing myself to be back down to a 00. I just really want my legs to be 18 inches again. How I let them get so fat (left is 19" and the right is fucking 19.5" like wtf you can't even be symmetrical in your failure??) is beyond me and a testament to what I loser I am but I'm trying. I've seen how far I can push myself, I know how low I can go and I'm nowhere close. I need to stop the bullshit and keep going to the steam room and just sit for at least an hour a day. No excuses, just results.
So I steamed last night and early this morning and have just been locked inside my room, which (for now) is safe because I have nothing to eat or drink (other than a bottle of beer and 2 bottles of champagne) and don't want to miss any of these dysfunctional fuck ups' stories on television. It's a super whack way to spend one's time, I know, but whatever. Who really knows what's going on behind all these other closed doors anyway? Plus, there's been a nasty wave of vog hanging around the island that's fucking killing my sinuses/throat. It's been so irritated I cut down my puking (meh, for like a day or two) because I couldn't deal with how it was affecting my voice.
You know what's horrible? I eat out of boredom. I don't know what else to do with myself and it gives me a routine: get up to get the food, agonize over what to eat (is it spicy? How will it taste coming back up? Will I absorb the salt/fat quickly? How fast will I digest it? Etc.), eat eat eat, feel defeated/lethargic/comatose, battle with myself about throwing up, finally throw up, feel cold and crawl under the covers and wonder why I continue to waste money like this. But I know exactly how it got this bad: I'm lonely and have no outlet for my feelings or frustrations. Nobody wants to hear about another person's shit because chances are they have their own and really can't be bothered to take on some new burden. I get it. People are very self-centered these days...isolating ourselves to the point of madness in the way that we don't care about those around us. We see suffering and misery every day and are just numb to it. Heck, I'm numb to my own pathetic life to the point where it doesn't even seem real.
Anyway, time to weigh myself for the 7th time today. Maybe I magically lost another pound somehow through sighing and willing myself to be back down to a 00. I just really want my legs to be 18 inches again. How I let them get so fat (left is 19" and the right is fucking 19.5" like wtf you can't even be symmetrical in your failure??) is beyond me and a testament to what I loser I am but I'm trying. I've seen how far I can push myself, I know how low I can go and I'm nowhere close. I need to stop the bullshit and keep going to the steam room and just sit for at least an hour a day. No excuses, just results.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Say Hello to Skinny September!
Relaxed, fasted, saved my energy and waited waited waited to walk 6 miles during the hottest part of the day. I didn't feel like I was sweating at all (but then again w/ a restrictive sports bra - medium my ass - a beater, men's long underwear, and a long sleeve cotton t-shirt, what can you really feel anymore?) so I was skeptical. I still plodded along though. Resisted the temptation to cheat, chug water, or catch the train back and pretend like I gave it my all.
Well, hard work pays the fuck off! I came back and pushed through 600 crunches (I was feeling the number 6 today) and stepped on that lovely little scale and nearly genuflected on the spot, I was so grateful to finally see 110. Can you believe that? It just confirms my thoughts that consistency gets results. Plain old sweat and cardio will get you where you want to go. Don't eat, don't gain. It can't get more simple than that.
Yes, what am I going to do once I start eating again? I get this question quite a bit.
Who the fuck says I'm ever going to eat normally again?
I have no problem having a few sips here, a bite a day twice a week there if I feel like it or can afford to gain under a pound that can easily be peed out/worked off later or the next day. Anymore than that and I'm going to get full, I'm going to retain, I'm going to get an extended belly, and I'm going to get depressed. I know how that story ends (in a binge and purge!) and I refuse to let it play through again. Way to tiring and I just can't bring myself to do that anymore. No, thank you!
See, I might be starving myself to death, but I don't want any unwanted attention/interruptions until it happens. I'm not even sure I want it to happen. I was so miserable before, but now I've got this to keep going. HWSNN is a fat, insensitive loser that was never good enough for me, but I was wallowing in depression and my fat thighs. Now, I have less of my thighs to hate and I'm not bed-ridden, so that's a plus. Maybe I can finally drag my ass away from him and pretend the last 4+ years didn't happen?
Hell, why stop there. Let me just pretend this whole life up 'til know didn't happen, and I just appeared as Fat Free Choco and didn't go through my Dark Choco phase! Pft, yeah right. See, that's my problem - I think too much. Let me just keep trodding along, one foot in front of the other, and not waste energy wondering about this or that. I'm pleased I'm making progress and I need to ignore all the other bullshit.
Skinny September is off to a solid start.
Well, hard work pays the fuck off! I came back and pushed through 600 crunches (I was feeling the number 6 today) and stepped on that lovely little scale and nearly genuflected on the spot, I was so grateful to finally see 110. Can you believe that? It just confirms my thoughts that consistency gets results. Plain old sweat and cardio will get you where you want to go. Don't eat, don't gain. It can't get more simple than that.
Yes, what am I going to do once I start eating again? I get this question quite a bit.
Who the fuck says I'm ever going to eat normally again?
I have no problem having a few sips here, a bite a day twice a week there if I feel like it or can afford to gain under a pound that can easily be peed out/worked off later or the next day. Anymore than that and I'm going to get full, I'm going to retain, I'm going to get an extended belly, and I'm going to get depressed. I know how that story ends (in a binge and purge!) and I refuse to let it play through again. Way to tiring and I just can't bring myself to do that anymore. No, thank you!
See, I might be starving myself to death, but I don't want any unwanted attention/interruptions until it happens. I'm not even sure I want it to happen. I was so miserable before, but now I've got this to keep going. HWSNN is a fat, insensitive loser that was never good enough for me, but I was wallowing in depression and my fat thighs. Now, I have less of my thighs to hate and I'm not bed-ridden, so that's a plus. Maybe I can finally drag my ass away from him and pretend the last 4+ years didn't happen?
Hell, why stop there. Let me just pretend this whole life up 'til know didn't happen, and I just appeared as Fat Free Choco and didn't go through my Dark Choco phase! Pft, yeah right. See, that's my problem - I think too much. Let me just keep trodding along, one foot in front of the other, and not waste energy wondering about this or that. I'm pleased I'm making progress and I need to ignore all the other bullshit.
Skinny September is off to a solid start.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Return of the Choco Beast!
Yes, yes, it's been an entire MONTH since I posted something. And don't think I forgot or overlooked it or didn't want to. I thought about it every day, but was going so up and down that I just couldn't bring myself to write about anything. Who am I to sit here and preach about "skinny or die, mother suckaaaa!" if I took a fucking "break" for 2 or 3 days and let myself get back up to 120.
Oh shit, fat's out of the bag now isn't it? Yup, I ate like a donkey - Mongolian barbeque and Mrs. Field's mini cookies for you Curious Cathys - and didn't purge because I didn't fucking feel like it. Also, because HWSNN got me a new laptop that I was in dire need of and had been dreaming about for some time now (not this particular one, because it's actually bigger than my last one, which makes me feel like I'm in a way bigger and needed something to accomodate my fat fingers/self, but that's for another post). That day I had been in heels for hours, walking around at work, then spending several more hours walking around trying to decide which machine to get, I was so famished. Combine physical exhaustion with HWSNN's pestering of never seeing me eat anything, I just gave in and *devoured* that spicy goodness, oh gawd.
Anyway anyway, lets not rehash the past. I ate and I enjoyed it for a second and felt bad and let it continue until I got up to 120 and nearly committed seppuku right there in the hotel bathroom because I undid how many weeks of working out in just how many days? Really Choco? *This* is your idea of "Fat Free" by eating half the food court in one evening? Oh hellz no!
So I vaguely admitted my transgressions on Twatter and vowed to get things under control. I never like to mention specific foods or anything, so I don't trigger anyone (I haaaaaaaaate those fat bitches that not only can't stop themselves from eating, but can't stop themselves from tweeting about all the nasty shit they just inhaled! Seriously? Why are you trying to drag the rest of us down with you??? Just say you binged and keep it moving! Don't go into detail about how the food was prepared and *ugh* go so far to post pics! Fat fuckers >:(
What was I saying? Yeah, so I've given up purging until at least after the gym is open again (it'll be closed from the 1st through the 8th for "renovations" read: because the staff is lazy and just wants time off. I bet not a damn fucking thing will be different) mainly because I am sick of it and I don't even want to eat. Two very good reasons, right? I waste so much time heaving my innards up and out that I could be relaxing in bed or doing whatever it is my ass wants, not doubled over some disgusting hole used to collect fecal matter and urine. Also, if I eat *anything* I immediately look at the time, see how long I have left until my body absorbs the damage, and count down if I can make it safely or not to get it out. Beyond crazy and obsessive. I don't want to do that anymore. But this is the case for any and everything I consume - nuts, fruit, liquids. Liquids are not air, people. They will show up on the scale!
Oh yes, I've given up my stupid lax tea for the time being (read: it's been about a week) because that shit was just adding water weight and not really moving shit - no pun intended. So what's a Mia to do to get her hydration fix? I discovered the wonderful world of popsicles! But not the fatty fat American kind that are XXL and full of sugar and milk or juice and shit. I'm talk the micro mini kind (like under 30 ml) from Japan that are more colored frozen water than anything. Amaaazing! I can have 5 in a day and it's not showing up on the scale enough for me to lose my shit. Ok, what's .2 lb really matter anyway? The alternative is me trying to only have a can of Rock* and not let it open the floodgates is always very slim. Regardless, I'd put back on the pound I just sweat out in the gym, and hate myself for the rest of the day. These ice pops are amazing and something different that helps me regulate what's going in me. And I'm still hydrated enough to trickle something out at regular intervals and when I wake up. Last thing I need is me passing out 'cos of dehydration, or even worse, dying out of the blue and I'm still big! I'd have nothing to show for all the shit I've been putting myself through, and the coroner would just be like: well, that was a waste. Her thighs are still huge!
So, anyway, I'm back and I'm skinny again. I as 113.8 before (barely 113 but I claimed that shit proudly!) and now I'm 113.4 and I haven't been purging every day, so I'm pleased. I got 3 new kinds of popsicles today: one is foul (I'll let HWSNN devour those), one is so so (only if I'm desperate), and one is great but has pieces of fruit in it :-| Whyyy! I don't want food sitting in my intestines, piling up and adding to my weight before I hit 105. Shit! There are only 5 in the box, thankfully, so I won't get this kind again for a few weeks. I know this is beyond looney tunes but a gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do. I want to get back to restricting and stop this purging altogether. Let me finish August strong and actually try and enjoy September. It's not Mission: Impossible and I know I can do it if I remain strong. One day, one step, one pound closer to what I want...
Oh shit, fat's out of the bag now isn't it? Yup, I ate like a donkey - Mongolian barbeque and Mrs. Field's mini cookies for you Curious Cathys - and didn't purge because I didn't fucking feel like it. Also, because HWSNN got me a new laptop that I was in dire need of and had been dreaming about for some time now (not this particular one, because it's actually bigger than my last one, which makes me feel like I'm in a way bigger and needed something to accomodate my fat fingers/self, but that's for another post). That day I had been in heels for hours, walking around at work, then spending several more hours walking around trying to decide which machine to get, I was so famished. Combine physical exhaustion with HWSNN's pestering of never seeing me eat anything, I just gave in and *devoured* that spicy goodness, oh gawd.
Anyway anyway, lets not rehash the past. I ate and I enjoyed it for a second and felt bad and let it continue until I got up to 120 and nearly committed seppuku right there in the hotel bathroom because I undid how many weeks of working out in just how many days? Really Choco? *This* is your idea of "Fat Free" by eating half the food court in one evening? Oh hellz no!
So I vaguely admitted my transgressions on Twatter and vowed to get things under control. I never like to mention specific foods or anything, so I don't trigger anyone (I haaaaaaaaate those fat bitches that not only can't stop themselves from eating, but can't stop themselves from tweeting about all the nasty shit they just inhaled! Seriously? Why are you trying to drag the rest of us down with you??? Just say you binged and keep it moving! Don't go into detail about how the food was prepared and *ugh* go so far to post pics! Fat fuckers >:(
What was I saying? Yeah, so I've given up purging until at least after the gym is open again (it'll be closed from the 1st through the 8th for "renovations" read: because the staff is lazy and just wants time off. I bet not a damn fucking thing will be different) mainly because I am sick of it and I don't even want to eat. Two very good reasons, right? I waste so much time heaving my innards up and out that I could be relaxing in bed or doing whatever it is my ass wants, not doubled over some disgusting hole used to collect fecal matter and urine. Also, if I eat *anything* I immediately look at the time, see how long I have left until my body absorbs the damage, and count down if I can make it safely or not to get it out. Beyond crazy and obsessive. I don't want to do that anymore. But this is the case for any and everything I consume - nuts, fruit, liquids. Liquids are not air, people. They will show up on the scale!
Oh yes, I've given up my stupid lax tea for the time being (read: it's been about a week) because that shit was just adding water weight and not really moving shit - no pun intended. So what's a Mia to do to get her hydration fix? I discovered the wonderful world of popsicles! But not the fatty fat American kind that are XXL and full of sugar and milk or juice and shit. I'm talk the micro mini kind (like under 30 ml) from Japan that are more colored frozen water than anything. Amaaazing! I can have 5 in a day and it's not showing up on the scale enough for me to lose my shit. Ok, what's .2 lb really matter anyway? The alternative is me trying to only have a can of Rock* and not let it open the floodgates is always very slim. Regardless, I'd put back on the pound I just sweat out in the gym, and hate myself for the rest of the day. These ice pops are amazing and something different that helps me regulate what's going in me. And I'm still hydrated enough to trickle something out at regular intervals and when I wake up. Last thing I need is me passing out 'cos of dehydration, or even worse, dying out of the blue and I'm still big! I'd have nothing to show for all the shit I've been putting myself through, and the coroner would just be like: well, that was a waste. Her thighs are still huge!
So, anyway, I'm back and I'm skinny again. I as 113.8 before (barely 113 but I claimed that shit proudly!) and now I'm 113.4 and I haven't been purging every day, so I'm pleased. I got 3 new kinds of popsicles today: one is foul (I'll let HWSNN devour those), one is so so (only if I'm desperate), and one is great but has pieces of fruit in it :-| Whyyy! I don't want food sitting in my intestines, piling up and adding to my weight before I hit 105. Shit! There are only 5 in the box, thankfully, so I won't get this kind again for a few weeks. I know this is beyond looney tunes but a gal's gotta do what a gal's gotta do. I want to get back to restricting and stop this purging altogether. Let me finish August strong and actually try and enjoy September. It's not Mission: Impossible and I know I can do it if I remain strong. One day, one step, one pound closer to what I want...
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Fasted for 4 Days, Waste of Time
So I haven't been on here for what seems like donkey years and that's been a mix of me not wanting to drag my ass anywhere to go online and a mix of feeling like I was a big loser for not keeping my pace of 5 lbs/9 days. So, I chalked it up to "conserving energy" and "staying focused" and really just skirted anything else I had to do outside of going to the gym, finding new classes to join (because I said I would!), and losing weight. If I'm not going to face anything else that I have to do, at least let me do a good job with pleasing the scale, right?
Well, I've been doing good enough, I suppose. Enough so that the whores at the gym have the gall to bring up how much time I spend there everyday and to follow me around like hungry wolves to a roasting pig. This is exactly why I hate gyms - full of nosy bitches and horny pricks that want to fill their eyes to the brim full of other people: fat, skinny, whatever. They soak it up because they're not satisfied with their own lumps of flesh and pass time judging/lusting over others. If you'd only focus more on your ass then you'd be out faster and have more time to enjoy life outside, right, ho? Stop staring at me and stare at your own droopy snatch, maybe you'd do those squats a little bit better.
Ahem. I digress.
So, I've been maintaining a pound lost a day, which is slightly more than what I was doing before (still trying to make up for the past. Gawd, why can't I get over it?) but really now, how long can I keep this up? I say I'll be so happy to get to 115 and will ease up but that's a lie. That'll only be the end of the month, probably. I still have a month's membership. And if the scale goes from moving every day to just every other day...oh gee. It's going to fuck with my head. Like, rational me will say, "it's ok. .6 lbs lost is still good, and still going down. Chill the fuck out!" while irrational me will say, "you inadequate loser. It's still the same goddamm number! What's wrong with you! Somewhere out there, someone's reaching her goal and getting the gigs and guys and glory you want, and it's not you!" and then I'll be bed-ridden for a few days.
So, let me keep doing what was working before - eat and purge - and sweat as much as possible in 4-6 hours. Waking up early and going for 2 hrs, then dropping off HWSNN and heading back to get the rest out worked well for the week or so that I did it. I should try that again. Doing 1 big chunk of gym at a time is draining. I really hate people and how they always want to talk about shit that has nothing to do with them, quip about this and that and stare like they were raised without consideration or manners (probably were). No, if I can help it, I'll take the gym in small doses - crunches, steaming, classes, bball, adios!
HWSNN had some work dinners this week, so I obviously had no reason to eat by myself. I remember before feeling the urge to buy food and eat it alone in the room, without anyone seeing me and without having to see anyone, like some secret shame (ugh, weirdo). Now, I don't even *want* to eat. I know the full feeling that will follow and that feeling equals failure. Failure that I couldn't eat just 5 bites less, failure that I couldn't just not eat at all, failure that I even feel bad about eating 100 cals of nothing! Vegetables and fucking air. So I just restricted my liquid intake so I don't pass out from dehydration and didn't eat until today.
Tell me why the fuck it seemed like my body decided to give me grief and hold on to those liquids for dear life??? Even though I was sweating buckets, I felt like the scale was baaaarely moving. Then I realized that all the purging was sucking those liquids right out of me as fast as I was putting them in, duh! The little bit of lax tea or whatever that I would sip on right before bed didn't really matter, 'cos that's essentially all that stuck with me. So fasting is so not worth it for me. I want to drink drink drink as usual, but I'm so dehydrated that my body just holds on to that shit like a sponge and I barely pee anything out. I didn't feel shaky or so weak that I couldn't function before, so I'm going back to what I know best. Tonight though, I barely ate anything and just couldn't eat anymore. It was so unlike me. If I'm going to eat, I'm going to *eat* and not stop until it's gone. Guess my stomach has other plans for me, these days. I'm not complaining tho. Less time scarfing down means less of a chance that shit is absorbed and retained and more of a chance for me to keep getting smaller.
Speaking of which, my thighs might have shrunk (still trying to figure out if this is true) but it's in proportion to how I was before!!!! I'm MEGA MAD at this fact - what's the fucking point! Now I'm a walking bag of bones draped in chocolate, propped up by two fat marshmallow mounds. Give me a break! I thought my top couldn't get any smaller, and yet, the weight still seems to be coming from there. I can almost hear my thighs taunting me, "we're not going anywhere, Fatty McGee! You're stuck with us for liiiiife, mwa ha ha haaaa" every time I look in the mirror. It's *seriously* frustrating. It's beyond irritating, it's sad. I'll probably be forced to stop going to the gym before I can get them the way I want them to be, and then what am I going to do? I wish I could just donate them to some Body Salvation Army and pick up some other obsessed gal's thighs (that are probably perfectly normal) to replace them...wouldn't that be grand?
Well, I've been doing good enough, I suppose. Enough so that the whores at the gym have the gall to bring up how much time I spend there everyday and to follow me around like hungry wolves to a roasting pig. This is exactly why I hate gyms - full of nosy bitches and horny pricks that want to fill their eyes to the brim full of other people: fat, skinny, whatever. They soak it up because they're not satisfied with their own lumps of flesh and pass time judging/lusting over others. If you'd only focus more on your ass then you'd be out faster and have more time to enjoy life outside, right, ho? Stop staring at me and stare at your own droopy snatch, maybe you'd do those squats a little bit better.
Ahem. I digress.
So, I've been maintaining a pound lost a day, which is slightly more than what I was doing before (still trying to make up for the past. Gawd, why can't I get over it?) but really now, how long can I keep this up? I say I'll be so happy to get to 115 and will ease up but that's a lie. That'll only be the end of the month, probably. I still have a month's membership. And if the scale goes from moving every day to just every other day...oh gee. It's going to fuck with my head. Like, rational me will say, "it's ok. .6 lbs lost is still good, and still going down. Chill the fuck out!" while irrational me will say, "you inadequate loser. It's still the same goddamm number! What's wrong with you! Somewhere out there, someone's reaching her goal and getting the gigs and guys and glory you want, and it's not you!" and then I'll be bed-ridden for a few days.
So, let me keep doing what was working before - eat and purge - and sweat as much as possible in 4-6 hours. Waking up early and going for 2 hrs, then dropping off HWSNN and heading back to get the rest out worked well for the week or so that I did it. I should try that again. Doing 1 big chunk of gym at a time is draining. I really hate people and how they always want to talk about shit that has nothing to do with them, quip about this and that and stare like they were raised without consideration or manners (probably were). No, if I can help it, I'll take the gym in small doses - crunches, steaming, classes, bball, adios!
HWSNN had some work dinners this week, so I obviously had no reason to eat by myself. I remember before feeling the urge to buy food and eat it alone in the room, without anyone seeing me and without having to see anyone, like some secret shame (ugh, weirdo). Now, I don't even *want* to eat. I know the full feeling that will follow and that feeling equals failure. Failure that I couldn't eat just 5 bites less, failure that I couldn't just not eat at all, failure that I even feel bad about eating 100 cals of nothing! Vegetables and fucking air. So I just restricted my liquid intake so I don't pass out from dehydration and didn't eat until today.
Tell me why the fuck it seemed like my body decided to give me grief and hold on to those liquids for dear life??? Even though I was sweating buckets, I felt like the scale was baaaarely moving. Then I realized that all the purging was sucking those liquids right out of me as fast as I was putting them in, duh! The little bit of lax tea or whatever that I would sip on right before bed didn't really matter, 'cos that's essentially all that stuck with me. So fasting is so not worth it for me. I want to drink drink drink as usual, but I'm so dehydrated that my body just holds on to that shit like a sponge and I barely pee anything out. I didn't feel shaky or so weak that I couldn't function before, so I'm going back to what I know best. Tonight though, I barely ate anything and just couldn't eat anymore. It was so unlike me. If I'm going to eat, I'm going to *eat* and not stop until it's gone. Guess my stomach has other plans for me, these days. I'm not complaining tho. Less time scarfing down means less of a chance that shit is absorbed and retained and more of a chance for me to keep getting smaller.
Speaking of which, my thighs might have shrunk (still trying to figure out if this is true) but it's in proportion to how I was before!!!! I'm MEGA MAD at this fact - what's the fucking point! Now I'm a walking bag of bones draped in chocolate, propped up by two fat marshmallow mounds. Give me a break! I thought my top couldn't get any smaller, and yet, the weight still seems to be coming from there. I can almost hear my thighs taunting me, "we're not going anywhere, Fatty McGee! You're stuck with us for liiiiife, mwa ha ha haaaa" every time I look in the mirror. It's *seriously* frustrating. It's beyond irritating, it's sad. I'll probably be forced to stop going to the gym before I can get them the way I want them to be, and then what am I going to do? I wish I could just donate them to some Body Salvation Army and pick up some other obsessed gal's thighs (that are probably perfectly normal) to replace them...wouldn't that be grand?
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Hit A Mental Roadblock Today
But I still managed to push myself to stick w/ my gym time until I saw 122 (praise be to you, Almighty Scale!) and am happy I did. According to my progress chart, I should've been 120, but let me stop harping on last week. That horse is dead and rotting now, what's done is done. As a reminder to what happens when I slack off, I forced myself to go shopping and went straight to the "small" section for everything: dresses, jeans, bras. The usual things that never fit the way they should and make me sad and mopey. Last time I went shopping at the beginning of the month, I could barely get into size 5 skinny jeans. Well, today I got my fat ass in, zipped up, and not bursting out. Damn right I bought 3 pairs of different colors and styles and brands just to make sure I don't ever try and give myself a break in the next 6 weeks before my gym membership expires (I'm not renewing that shit, fuck no).
If I'm able to drop 30 lbs in in this first month and a half, what can I do in the second? At the very *least* get down to 110. If I'm not a size 3 or even a 1 by then, I'll feel like a failure. Not because those numbers are anything special, but because they are lower than where I am now. They signify progress and a step closer to perfection. My thighs still jiggle now and the gap is barely noticeable. There's maybe a pencil's width of space and they still spread when I sit. I want smooth sailing between my legs (that sounds dirty, hm) and no change from when I go from standing to sitting to squatting to whatever. I want sticks for legs, essentially, yes. When they get very slender, I'll start toning them so they don't look gross. I don't want muscle, but I don't want wobbly, either. I was so pleased with myself at dinner, I had almost nothing! Purging was a breeze! It's like, I can't even will myself to eat like I was even a week ago, because it's just so exhausting to deal with the guilt and doubting if I got everything out. Once I'm out of the 120s, I'm just going to stick to 24 oz a day, fuck it.
Oh, I tried 32As because I'm sick of wearing these junior's tops with the boobs built-in (it's been wicked cold these days and I need a bra for under my 4 layers - tank, long sleeve, turtleneck, hoodie - so I don't let my sad chest get on my nerves. The 34Bs I've been wearing suck! I wear them all the way over, so isn't that essentially like a 32? Whenever I'm measured, they say 32 but before that shit was uncomfortable, so I always took 34s and just wore them as tight as possible. I hate back fat and bras that look like they're cutting off circulation. In reality, I think I was a 33 or something. Anyway, the 32s are for true skinnies that are like, 31s or something, because I felt like a fraud. The A cup was fine, I barely filled that shit out either, and the padding felt like I was walking around with airbags so whatever. I didn't get any of them. I'll stick to my less padded bras that run smaller (I have about 3 now that are decent, just lined, no padding) and my dresses/tops that come with breasts pre-installed. HWSNN says he feels like he's sleeping with a different person now, it's weird, and I think, 'Good. Then the old me is really becoming a thing of the past, finally.'
I was going to wait until the 110s to try going out again, get new clothes and try new places that are a little trendier, start shmoozing my way to meeting the right people to get connections and look for management. Then I thought, why wait? Go to the places you hate (because they're filled with tiny women of East-Asian descent that weren't raised on this fatty fat moo moo shit) and just dance until you can't move - and then dance some more. I'm not interested in getting attention - never happens - or making fake friends for the night to never hear from them again or having some ugly drunk try and liquor me up to rub his dirty dick on me in some corner. Thanks, but college was over years ago. I'm gonna do my own thing and enjoy the music and just not think about anything for 2 hours. Have I forgotten what it means to have a good time?
Ah, I bought more long underwear for my workout shit, so I'll never have to go another day w/o a pair like today. I power-walked 7 miles today and was actually please! That might not sound like much, but considering I usually only do 4 or 5, this was really pretty good for me. But I didn't sweat anything out - here comes the feeling of inadequacy again. I was devastated. Seriously, I wanted to just leave the gym right then. Why didn't any of my fat/frustration/failure come out as usual? I was wearing 4 layers. It's because I had a loose sweatshirt on instead of my usual tight, long underwear, duh! Never again will I waste time like that if it doesn't translate to buckets of sweat drenching my clothes. Sweat = exertion = results. End of story.
Well, time to get my ass moving and get back to the shithole to change and head out. My afro looks like crap and I have to de-hairify my body but who cares? I got a shit ton of new flavored chapstick and with heels my underarms will be so far above everyone's head, who's going to notice? I'm getting waxed when I hit 120 I decided. I know, I was supposed to get a laptop but we're supposedly moving next week and I should probably wait. 120 waxing and yoga pants, 115 pedi and bikinis (small bottoms or I'm going to scream!!), 110 new laptop and new management. Life's so much easier when you have a clear plan and goals that you can actually attain. If I wasn't focused on getting my body in proportion, I don't know how I would get out of bed every day, honestly. Actually, I know I wouldn't. That was me for the last X months before this, basically. Never again, never again.
If I'm able to drop 30 lbs in in this first month and a half, what can I do in the second? At the very *least* get down to 110. If I'm not a size 3 or even a 1 by then, I'll feel like a failure. Not because those numbers are anything special, but because they are lower than where I am now. They signify progress and a step closer to perfection. My thighs still jiggle now and the gap is barely noticeable. There's maybe a pencil's width of space and they still spread when I sit. I want smooth sailing between my legs (that sounds dirty, hm) and no change from when I go from standing to sitting to squatting to whatever. I want sticks for legs, essentially, yes. When they get very slender, I'll start toning them so they don't look gross. I don't want muscle, but I don't want wobbly, either. I was so pleased with myself at dinner, I had almost nothing! Purging was a breeze! It's like, I can't even will myself to eat like I was even a week ago, because it's just so exhausting to deal with the guilt and doubting if I got everything out. Once I'm out of the 120s, I'm just going to stick to 24 oz a day, fuck it.
Oh, I tried 32As because I'm sick of wearing these junior's tops with the boobs built-in (it's been wicked cold these days and I need a bra for under my 4 layers - tank, long sleeve, turtleneck, hoodie - so I don't let my sad chest get on my nerves. The 34Bs I've been wearing suck! I wear them all the way over, so isn't that essentially like a 32? Whenever I'm measured, they say 32 but before that shit was uncomfortable, so I always took 34s and just wore them as tight as possible. I hate back fat and bras that look like they're cutting off circulation. In reality, I think I was a 33 or something. Anyway, the 32s are for true skinnies that are like, 31s or something, because I felt like a fraud. The A cup was fine, I barely filled that shit out either, and the padding felt like I was walking around with airbags so whatever. I didn't get any of them. I'll stick to my less padded bras that run smaller (I have about 3 now that are decent, just lined, no padding) and my dresses/tops that come with breasts pre-installed. HWSNN says he feels like he's sleeping with a different person now, it's weird, and I think, 'Good. Then the old me is really becoming a thing of the past, finally.'
I was going to wait until the 110s to try going out again, get new clothes and try new places that are a little trendier, start shmoozing my way to meeting the right people to get connections and look for management. Then I thought, why wait? Go to the places you hate (because they're filled with tiny women of East-Asian descent that weren't raised on this fatty fat moo moo shit) and just dance until you can't move - and then dance some more. I'm not interested in getting attention - never happens - or making fake friends for the night to never hear from them again or having some ugly drunk try and liquor me up to rub his dirty dick on me in some corner. Thanks, but college was over years ago. I'm gonna do my own thing and enjoy the music and just not think about anything for 2 hours. Have I forgotten what it means to have a good time?
Ah, I bought more long underwear for my workout shit, so I'll never have to go another day w/o a pair like today. I power-walked 7 miles today and was actually please! That might not sound like much, but considering I usually only do 4 or 5, this was really pretty good for me. But I didn't sweat anything out - here comes the feeling of inadequacy again. I was devastated. Seriously, I wanted to just leave the gym right then. Why didn't any of my fat/frustration/failure come out as usual? I was wearing 4 layers. It's because I had a loose sweatshirt on instead of my usual tight, long underwear, duh! Never again will I waste time like that if it doesn't translate to buckets of sweat drenching my clothes. Sweat = exertion = results. End of story.
Well, time to get my ass moving and get back to the shithole to change and head out. My afro looks like crap and I have to de-hairify my body but who cares? I got a shit ton of new flavored chapstick and with heels my underarms will be so far above everyone's head, who's going to notice? I'm getting waxed when I hit 120 I decided. I know, I was supposed to get a laptop but we're supposedly moving next week and I should probably wait. 120 waxing and yoga pants, 115 pedi and bikinis (small bottoms or I'm going to scream!!), 110 new laptop and new management. Life's so much easier when you have a clear plan and goals that you can actually attain. If I wasn't focused on getting my body in proportion, I don't know how I would get out of bed every day, honestly. Actually, I know I wouldn't. That was me for the last X months before this, basically. Never again, never again.
Friday, July 15, 2011
3 Square Meals? Um, No Thanks!
I've replaced meal time with working out: about 1.5 hours in the morning, 2.5 hours in the afternoon, and another hour at night. I'm so exhausted from walking, sweating, crunching, hopping around from this part of the gym to that and back again to keep from getting bored/going bonkers that when I'm *not* in that shitty hell hole, all I can think about is resting or what errands I should have done but didn't do. Then I'm running around, trying to make up for lost time/get to some place before it closes, and whoops! There goes the chance to eat. Aww, damn! I really wanted to shove unwanted calories in my gullet and cry about it for the next 12 hours! Phooey.
The day goes by so much quicker when my main focus is to get the scale to show a lower number than the previous day, and to have that number keep showing up whether it's on this side of the room or that. On this scale or that one or the one over there. Whether I weigh now or in 5 minutes. Then I know I really did a good enough job to let myself hydrate and relax until basketball before the dungeon closes. If not, well that means I better check Twatter, see the lazy bums still whining about their 3500 calorie day and how they're so far away from their goals, and go back in the steam room/treadmill/whatever torture device I can get to and sweat out my inadequacy.
See, I'm so tired of excuses. I was always like this, even when I was younger. I hate people who complain but never tried to change whatever was making them unhappy. It's like, if your shoes hurt your feet, why for godssake do you keep wearing them?? Why not get another pair/style? Heck, why not go barefoot? But to continue to wear shoes that are uncomfortable, but stupidly complain about it is the same to me as not changing your eating habits, not doing any exercise, and really not doing anything about the fat that's making you miserable. It's all relatively simple: stop eating, start moving, watch things change. Stick with it, don't get lazy, see results come to fruition.
So, that's why I stepped up my workouts. Once a day, 4 miles was good, but then it wasn't enough. Twice a day, 4 miles and adding the steam room was better, but how long until I taper off? So, here I am, three times a day, making sure to sweat buckets every time, and still steadily losing. I've already decided to join classes when I'm past 120, so I can keep things interesting and stay motivated. I want to have solid legs, not smaller ones that still sway with a breeze or jiggle when I run or spread like fat in a bag when I sit. I don't want an athlete's body at all, (because I'm not a fucking athlete, stop asking!), I want someone to look at me and go, "Damn, that's a skinny bitch," and not have any mother fucker be able to say anything otherwise. Unarguable frailty. Let the outside match the inside, I'm tired of this fat covering that lets every idiot think they can treat me like an impenetrable elephant.
Oh, and wouldn't you know it? My period came back to spit on my grave this afternoon. Just when I thought that shit had packed up and left town, it just rained on my parade and tried to stick me one last time. That's cool, bitch. Do what you gotta do. I get it that nobody ever likes your ass when you roll through, and you're generally hated by bajillions, from little girls to older ladies. I feel your pain (every 27 days) but you *will* be out of my life soon enough. I don't care where the fuck you take you go but you can't come back to visit me again! Don't even send postcards. I will celebrate (new white skirt?) when the time comes that you should be here and you wind up missing. Who said being tight with Ana doesn't do a body good? Probably a fattie with a light period, hmph.
The day goes by so much quicker when my main focus is to get the scale to show a lower number than the previous day, and to have that number keep showing up whether it's on this side of the room or that. On this scale or that one or the one over there. Whether I weigh now or in 5 minutes. Then I know I really did a good enough job to let myself hydrate and relax until basketball before the dungeon closes. If not, well that means I better check Twatter, see the lazy bums still whining about their 3500 calorie day and how they're so far away from their goals, and go back in the steam room/treadmill/whatever torture device I can get to and sweat out my inadequacy.
See, I'm so tired of excuses. I was always like this, even when I was younger. I hate people who complain but never tried to change whatever was making them unhappy. It's like, if your shoes hurt your feet, why for godssake do you keep wearing them?? Why not get another pair/style? Heck, why not go barefoot? But to continue to wear shoes that are uncomfortable, but stupidly complain about it is the same to me as not changing your eating habits, not doing any exercise, and really not doing anything about the fat that's making you miserable. It's all relatively simple: stop eating, start moving, watch things change. Stick with it, don't get lazy, see results come to fruition.
So, that's why I stepped up my workouts. Once a day, 4 miles was good, but then it wasn't enough. Twice a day, 4 miles and adding the steam room was better, but how long until I taper off? So, here I am, three times a day, making sure to sweat buckets every time, and still steadily losing. I've already decided to join classes when I'm past 120, so I can keep things interesting and stay motivated. I want to have solid legs, not smaller ones that still sway with a breeze or jiggle when I run or spread like fat in a bag when I sit. I don't want an athlete's body at all, (because I'm not a fucking athlete, stop asking!), I want someone to look at me and go, "Damn, that's a skinny bitch," and not have any mother fucker be able to say anything otherwise. Unarguable frailty. Let the outside match the inside, I'm tired of this fat covering that lets every idiot think they can treat me like an impenetrable elephant.
Oh, and wouldn't you know it? My period came back to spit on my grave this afternoon. Just when I thought that shit had packed up and left town, it just rained on my parade and tried to stick me one last time. That's cool, bitch. Do what you gotta do. I get it that nobody ever likes your ass when you roll through, and you're generally hated by bajillions, from little girls to older ladies. I feel your pain (every 27 days) but you *will* be out of my life soon enough. I don't care where the fuck you take you go but you can't come back to visit me again! Don't even send postcards. I will celebrate (new white skirt?) when the time comes that you should be here and you wind up missing. Who said being tight with Ana doesn't do a body good? Probably a fattie with a light period, hmph.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
No Excuses, No Fat, No Mercy
Today was great, from start to finish. Weight loss wise, that is. I mean, what else really matter to me right now, duh, right? Anyways, why did it go so well? I got my ass up before 7 AM and ran - yes, *ran* for a straight mile and then power walked for 2 more. I popped that out in 30 minutes and then crunched myself into another dimension, and steamed myself back to reality all before 9 AM. Drove H.W.S.N.N. to work, turned around, and did it all over again. I was just so pumped to be going back for a 2nd round when I usually would just be waking up again and checking Twatter, feeling crappy for sleeping in and fucking up. But here I was, walking to Timbuktu and feeling *good* it was like some natural high that all those doctor's talk about (although I don't think they quite meant for you to get it like this...)
I was right smack at 124.0 and if I wanted to, I could've seen 123 today but I figured I'd let myself have something to look forward to tomorrow - who wants to see the same # 2 days in a row? Not me! I feel like a failure if the scale doesn't change from day to day. Like, really now. What am I doing if I'm not losing weight? Waiting for it to just fall off when it's ready? Pft. I took a break last weekend and we saw how that turned out (please, see last entry) so I'll never slack off again. Not until I'm 100 lbs (hahhahahahahha) which is quite a while's away.
Earlier, I saw someone ask "why are we doing this to ourselves??" and I thought, what a stupid fucking question. Because it makes us have something to work hard for, to look forward to, to strive towards, to gain order and control in a chaotic, messed up, superficial, stupid world. Because someone, sometime, somewhere made us feel inadequate, slighted, less than worthy of attention or affection (whether purposefully or not) and here we are, trying to make up for it in our own sad way, knowing that it's unhealthy or leading to our demise, but still showing dedication rivaling that of any other person who's determined to succeed in achieving some perfection.
It's like, bitch, really, if you have to ask then you obviously are just going through some bored phase during the summer months, realizing your thighs still rub together but unwillingly to do a damn thing about it. Please, stop following me and filling my timeline with your shit about ringdings and ho-hos. I hate those fatties that go on and on about all the food they ate and how they aren't losing weight. Every time, I vow to block them but forget which whale it was that ruined my afternoon with her binge pics/descriptions, and she stays safe for another day. That'll all change when I get my new laptop and I can be on all day, looking at thinspo in my new place and avoiding food like the hobos outside my door. I can't wait!
Oh yes, this took me a good like, eternity to write because this mofo wouldn't stop talking to me about all sorts of random shit. I hope it makes sense. I wanted to write about staying focused, making up for lost time, yakking up my 1 meal of the day (and getting sick of it, but not enough to ever stop or get lazy and not get it all out), the cunts at the gym following me around and judging my neuorsis, and best of all, legit thigh gaps AND kicking my period's ass and finally getting rid of it, but it was hard enough to end this coherently, let alone talk about all that stuff. Until tomorrow, then! At least I wrote something. I'm going to fudge the time so it shows up for Thursday, shh~
I was right smack at 124.0 and if I wanted to, I could've seen 123 today but I figured I'd let myself have something to look forward to tomorrow - who wants to see the same # 2 days in a row? Not me! I feel like a failure if the scale doesn't change from day to day. Like, really now. What am I doing if I'm not losing weight? Waiting for it to just fall off when it's ready? Pft. I took a break last weekend and we saw how that turned out (please, see last entry) so I'll never slack off again. Not until I'm 100 lbs (hahhahahahahha) which is quite a while's away.
Earlier, I saw someone ask "why are we doing this to ourselves??" and I thought, what a stupid fucking question. Because it makes us have something to work hard for, to look forward to, to strive towards, to gain order and control in a chaotic, messed up, superficial, stupid world. Because someone, sometime, somewhere made us feel inadequate, slighted, less than worthy of attention or affection (whether purposefully or not) and here we are, trying to make up for it in our own sad way, knowing that it's unhealthy or leading to our demise, but still showing dedication rivaling that of any other person who's determined to succeed in achieving some perfection.
It's like, bitch, really, if you have to ask then you obviously are just going through some bored phase during the summer months, realizing your thighs still rub together but unwillingly to do a damn thing about it. Please, stop following me and filling my timeline with your shit about ringdings and ho-hos. I hate those fatties that go on and on about all the food they ate and how they aren't losing weight. Every time, I vow to block them but forget which whale it was that ruined my afternoon with her binge pics/descriptions, and she stays safe for another day. That'll all change when I get my new laptop and I can be on all day, looking at thinspo in my new place and avoiding food like the hobos outside my door. I can't wait!
Oh yes, this took me a good like, eternity to write because this mofo wouldn't stop talking to me about all sorts of random shit. I hope it makes sense. I wanted to write about staying focused, making up for lost time, yakking up my 1 meal of the day (and getting sick of it, but not enough to ever stop or get lazy and not get it all out), the cunts at the gym following me around and judging my neuorsis, and best of all, legit thigh gaps AND kicking my period's ass and finally getting rid of it, but it was hard enough to end this coherently, let alone talk about all that stuff. Until tomorrow, then! At least I wrote something. I'm going to fudge the time so it shows up for Thursday, shh~
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Can't Slack Off/Relax...Not Now
Just wrote 2 paragraphs chronicling my failures and weak moments over the past weekend, and I guess even Blogger didn't want to see that shit get posted, because my computer had to be re-booted. Anyway, all I did was bla bla bla about how it was stupid to try and lie to myself that it's ok to drink energy drinks like a fish and not work out, but stand around like a lazy asshole and sleep all day instead of going to do cardio and walking at least 5 miles. Wrong! Obviously! I retained all that water and ballooned up like a goddam blimp. Coupled with my evil, pointless period, I was sucking up and retaining every little bit of moisture in the air possible. Disgusting!
Sooo, I went all the way up to 129 I think on Monday, sweated down to 127 or so, then 128 yesterday and sweated down to 126, then 127 maybe (I tend to block out the first number after it shocks me awake pre-gym) and back down to 125 today. Oh lord. I played a solid 40 minutes of basketball tonight (I stuffed, trash-talked, and played *hard* D - 'not in MY house, fool! - the whole time) and really felt good. I pushed through 600 vertical and cross crunches, 8 push ups (forgot to do the 2nd half, must do some before bed, now that I remember), and 2 sets of 10 inner thigh crunches or whatever their fancy name is called.
Ok, so here's my regular couple of sentences devoted to how much I hate my thighs. Seriously now, I am soooo over them! They have passed the point of being the freak that keeps showing up to the events with all the funny, interesting, likable people, that just shows up and kills the mood. Nobody wants to be around, see, or even acknowledge them, and yet, there they are...time after time. They are so unsightly and just in the way - like, gawd! Just fucking go back to where you came from! Why are you still here? No, no really. Get the fuck out of here. Security?!? I have ribs ready to take out an eye, a clavicle you can pick your teeth with, and thighs that you can use as flotation devices in the event of an emergency. *Hums "One of These Things is Not Like the Other"* How annoying. Just why, oh, why can't I look even and balanced? Plus, my hair's becoming a flat, smooshed mess because of all the steam room time I spend lying on my back. I have to find new positions, but that's the most comfortable one and allows me to stay in there for the longest. I can deal with a lopsided 'fro for now if it means more weight loss - I already look like a fat, ugly mess, who the hell is noticing my hair when my thighs are flapping around making babies cry and old ladies faint?
Anyway, I really need a new computer, and already decided I wouldn't get one until I'm out of the 120s. Well guess what? This chick is sick of worrying about her adapter becoming unplugged because her shit would shut down immediately or the fact that her monitor is hanging on to the keyboard by a wish and a dream and little else. It's time to get serious and fucking drop 6 pounds by Monday and start the week off with a new set of #s and a new goddam laptop. A'int no ifs, ands, or big butts about it! I want a new toy to play with and cheer me up! 5 days, 5 pounds. I must do this. I have to make up for lost time.
Sooo, I went all the way up to 129 I think on Monday, sweated down to 127 or so, then 128 yesterday and sweated down to 126, then 127 maybe (I tend to block out the first number after it shocks me awake pre-gym) and back down to 125 today. Oh lord. I played a solid 40 minutes of basketball tonight (I stuffed, trash-talked, and played *hard* D - 'not in MY house, fool! - the whole time) and really felt good. I pushed through 600 vertical and cross crunches, 8 push ups (forgot to do the 2nd half, must do some before bed, now that I remember), and 2 sets of 10 inner thigh crunches or whatever their fancy name is called.
Ok, so here's my regular couple of sentences devoted to how much I hate my thighs. Seriously now, I am soooo over them! They have passed the point of being the freak that keeps showing up to the events with all the funny, interesting, likable people, that just shows up and kills the mood. Nobody wants to be around, see, or even acknowledge them, and yet, there they are...time after time. They are so unsightly and just in the way - like, gawd! Just fucking go back to where you came from! Why are you still here? No, no really. Get the fuck out of here. Security?!? I have ribs ready to take out an eye, a clavicle you can pick your teeth with, and thighs that you can use as flotation devices in the event of an emergency. *Hums "One of These Things is Not Like the Other"* How annoying. Just why, oh, why can't I look even and balanced? Plus, my hair's becoming a flat, smooshed mess because of all the steam room time I spend lying on my back. I have to find new positions, but that's the most comfortable one and allows me to stay in there for the longest. I can deal with a lopsided 'fro for now if it means more weight loss - I already look like a fat, ugly mess, who the hell is noticing my hair when my thighs are flapping around making babies cry and old ladies faint?
Anyway, I really need a new computer, and already decided I wouldn't get one until I'm out of the 120s. Well guess what? This chick is sick of worrying about her adapter becoming unplugged because her shit would shut down immediately or the fact that her monitor is hanging on to the keyboard by a wish and a dream and little else. It's time to get serious and fucking drop 6 pounds by Monday and start the week off with a new set of #s and a new goddam laptop. A'int no ifs, ands, or big butts about it! I want a new toy to play with and cheer me up! 5 days, 5 pounds. I must do this. I have to make up for lost time.
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