I am sick of my body. I am sick of 4:45am. I am sick of counting Points for each and every thing that goes into my mouth and I am REALLY sick of capitalizing "Points" like that. For the love of God.
The thing is, I'm losing weight. I really am. I know it's working. The number on the scale is on a down slope. It's slower than Christmas, but it's still a down slope. Which is awesome and everything, but also FRUSTRATING AS HELL because I don't just wake up and have everything suddenly be okay. That's never happened, ever, but it doesn't mean I don't want it to.
Also? My body is changing. It doesn't just go all smoothly like it's supposed to. Things are...I don't know, shifting? Or something? It's weird and I don't much care for it.
It makes my pants go like this:
And yes. Jesus Christ. I just showed my pink underwear to God and everybody. I'm sorry. (Also, sorry to my dad, if he's reading this.) My only explanation is that this is the least sexy thing ON THE ENTIRE PLANET so surely nobody will get offended. I hope.
(Also, I have no clue why I'm wearing green pants and blue shirt. I need to do some laundry. And perhaps get a stylist.)
Besides, if you know me? This happens to me all the time. My boss knows what the vast majority of my underwear looks like. (Also, I'm sorry about that Donna. Sincerely.)
SO. The obvious answer is to buy some smaller pants. Right?
Which would work GREAT if I wasn't FREAKING TERRIFIED TO BUY SMALLER PANTS.
I don't understand why I have such a mental block when it comes to this. This is less about my abject hatred of shopping and spending money and more about my fear of being something different. Being someone different. That the minute that I accept this, that I say, "Okay, I don't have to be fat. I can be something else" that some magical switch in my mind or something will flip and BAM. The new pants will be small on me and I'll wonder what the Hell I was thinking.
Somehow it seems easier to just walk around with the fear that my pants will fall off in front of someone important.
I know this isn't logical. I know this is like the mental block that I had a few months ago when I decided there was absolutely no way I could run. I run all the time now. It might be extremely unattractive when I do it, but BY GOD I DO IT.
I don't know. God. Continued therapy and a belt maybe? I've got to get it together.