I know I should. I know allllll the reasons. Got no excuses. Not really.
But I just can't seem to MAKE myself exercise. It's a viscious
cycle of feeling fat, ugly, and winded, which leads to being more
depressed, which leads to my wanting to go sleep for ohhhhhhhhh ever,
which leads to me being more depressed by my fat, unhealthy,
unattractive self. It's disgusting. Aren't you glad I'm
Yesterday, my poor guy heard all about it (and a bunch of tangents too)
for hours (and I do mean literally hours). He had to bear the
sight (and sound) of me sobbing and blowing my nose repeatedly.
It would seem I was calming down, then oh! no! a fresh turrent of tears
would burst forth.
And because he is a psychologist (well, ok, because he LOVES me, but
also because he is a psychologist), he listened to my blubbering
wallowing until we were both pruney. He gave a few great
suggestions, he offered his shoulder (and ear) anytime, and encouraged
me with warm words.
I feel much better.
But, I'd like to say that sometimes it amazes me that I am 230
pounds. Even more so, it astounds me that I let myself get this
I know it took awhile to get this way. I know it will take awhile
to not be this way. I know that I am the only one that can change
But wouldn't it be nice if you could just lay the blame elsewhere?
I think it was the butler, in the pantry, with the knife.