I am enormous.

I don’t know my weight bc in terrified to get on the scale, but I am fucking huge. My pants are tight; you can see my stomach under my shirt; my face is puffy; my arms are jiggley. And what do I do about it? Why stuff my face some more of course!

I just can’t deal with the stress. I’m working crazy hours; I’m moving; I have a million things to do and no time to do it; I’m broke; my depression and anxiety are getting worse. Food makes me feel better for the few minutes I’m eating it at least, even tho I feel worse after.

I went for a run this morning; I was fucking dying. In October I could run 4 miles like it was nothing (maybe even more if I ever had time); the past two weeks my lungs have been burning after a mile and a half. Granted, that’s my own fault for being lazy and only running once or twice a week when I used to go almost every day, but all I want to do is sleep.

The hubs has made his New Years resolution to lose some weight, which he probably should do for his health. So at least now I’ll be able to diet and exercise with a buddy, and it’ll be me supporting him and not me being a ridiculous eating-disordered person. So I’m looking forward to that.

Ugh I don’t even know what the point of this entry is. I’m just being a whiney little bitch.


2 thoughts on “I am enormous.

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