Thursday, August 21, 2014
GRR. Just... grr.
So I know I've gained weight. But I haven't weighed myself in a while, and my favorite pair of jeans have been hanging out in my sewing room waiting for a couple of strategic patches on a couple of weak points. Yes, the weak points are the inner thighs, but that's normal. I'm a stocky girl, I have meaty thighs, and so it has been since I was 12. It made me laugh to realize the thighs were now wearing faster than the knees, which I was more used to. Anywhoooooo... today I weighed myself. TWO POUNDS from my heaviest recorded adult weight. Joy. I made myself the biggest glass of ice water I could find to drown my sorrows, and proceeded to get dressed. New nerd tee (Supernatural FTW) and my newly patched jeans... that I can barely button.
REALLY??? Is this where I am right now? UGH.
Jonathan and I had to put a halt on our walkies due to his work training, and now that he's fully employed he's not home until well into the evening, sometimes well after I've gone to bed. Yes, I could go walking by myself, but... I dunno, I'm kind of iffy about venturing off by myself without a car or piece of reliable escape transportation. At one point we were across state for a week, and then there was inventory where I swear I worked far more than what my paycheck told me... and... rassa-frackin'.
So yeah. I'm rather angry right now. At myself, mostly, for not keeping my own self in check. At work, for being so draining that by the time I get home it's all I've got to pull of my work clothes and make it to a solid piece of furniture before falling asleep. At cooking, for being so boring and unmotivating. At food, because why the hell are the tastiest things so unhealthy. At my taste buds, for disliking what's considered healthy (seriously, the taste and texture of most vegetables makes me gag)... I'm just angry at everything. Hell, my stomach was grumbling at me at lunchtime and I just glared at my fridge for a full five minutes before flinging the door open and pulling out the least unhealthy thing I had (sliced turkey, low sodium cheese, bag o' green grapes, and the water jug), muttering darkly all the while. Yeah, I kind of slammed the door when I was done. Sorry, 'fridge. Wasn't your fault.
One positive about my job, however, is that I regularly fully light up my Spark stepper thingie. :) Almost everyone who starts work at my store notices a weight loss after several weeks. They exclaim over how they had to buy a belt because their pants won't stay up, and how their polos are hanging a bit more loosely. Don't get me wrong, I'm happy for them, but dammit, why am I the only one who didn't lose? Then again, I'm the only one with farked up hormones, so... I got that going for me, which sucks. *lol*
Jonathan knows I'm frustrated. I commented that a good half my closet is now uncomfortably tight where this time last year it was fine. Some of my jeans were even a smidge too big. He says he understands, that we'll try harder in future, and he even admits that he needs to stop being a "fatass" as he says... but... we're still on the same habits. He's done nothing to change, and really, neither have I. And I'm pissed.
I hate when I get this way because it throws me all out of whack. I'm too angry to eat. I don't want to eat. Eating is what got me here in the first place. If I could get by on a cracker, a grape, and a glass of water a day I totally would. I'd be miserable but I'd do it. And yet there's a part of me that wants to say, "Effit!" and go eat a pizza by myself.
If headdesking wouldn't leave a nasty bruise on my expansive forehead, I'd be doing that right now.
So that's where I am right now. Laying on my back in the dirt, glaring at the horse that just bucked me off and is now prancing in mocking circles around my body. Once again... as I say every time I make an entry... here I go, brushing the dust and hay off of my ever-widening ass, getting ready to haul myself back into the saddle. Here's to the next time I fall off and hit the dirt. *salute*