Hmmpf. I'm feeling very un-Rebecca Black about today.
It may have something to do with the tragedy of me getting on the scale this morning. Not that I expected any dramatic weight loss after only a week of officially getting back on track. But I certainly didn't expect to be at my highest weight ever.
Having words like 'fat', 'round', 'disgusting' and 'failure' floating around your head at 7 am are enough to ruin anyone's Friday (Friday, gotta get down on Friiiiday).
And then my mascara clumped. And then I decided to wear jeans to work, which only makes me feel more obese. And then I dropped my iPhone while taking it out of my bag. On gravel. Chipping the screen in the process.
And then I got to work. And everyone else was happy. And singing Friiiiiday.
(And yes, I'm aware that elsewhere in the world people are waking up starving, or victims of abuse, or in the middle of civil wars, or dying of terminal illness. And I should be happy about my fantastic life. I'm aware this makes me a horrible, self-centred, selfish person.)
They say sometimes the only way to obliterate your negative interior monologue is to get it out (so you can replace it with a gentler one). And since I can't actually say this out loud to people without them getting upset, rolling their eyes or telling me I need to see a shrink ... well, lucky you, blogosphere:
I hate that I've gained weight.
I hate that my hair is just long and fluffy and awful at the moment and it's a week till I can get it cut.
I hate that my stomach resembles that of a fat 45-year-old and not Kate Middleton's.
I hate that my skin has decided to have a panic attack at the ripe old age of 24 instead of in my teens when I would at least have had solidarity amongst my pimply peers.
I hate that I am a 34DD.
I hate my man calves.
I hate that my thighs touch.
I hate having to avoid mirrors, even when I'm brushing my teeth.
I hate that this monster in my brain can ruin a perfectly good Friday, when in all likihood I'm going to leave work early and then go to a lovely friend's lovely birthday party and eat lovely cupcakes that are going to make me feel worse.
Amen Sister!!
ReplyDeleteAs I read this post I was shaking my head so vigorously some people might of thought I was having an epileptic fit. Trust me, I hear ya!
I've just finished a month with a personal trainer (huge amount of money later) am still on a protein-why-crap diet (vomit), and have read some motivational crap called The Gabriel Method ("Creating the body of your dreams using the power of your mind") - I STILL am not seeing the results I want to. WHYYYYYYYYYYYYY!?!
Meh, pass me a cupcake!
er, by shaking my head I meant nodding.. in agreement...obviously :)
ReplyDeleteHi Princess ... nice to know I'm not alone out there :)
ReplyDeleteI have a new plan. What if we ate nothing all day apart from a single cupcake? It's not a lot, so we'd probably lose weight, but still get to have a cupcake every day of our lives.
Sounds genius to me.
What do you mean that's no healthy?? ;)
A single cupcake? as in 1 cup cake? as in 1 single solitary cupcake? noooooo... thats just not possible.
ReplyDeleteBUT I am willing to restrict myself to JUST 1/2 a dozen cupcakes a day... thats all :)
Mine sounds healthier... ;)
Scratch my idea ... I'm with you :)
ReplyDelete