Until today. I laid in bed last night next to my husband and cried myself to sleep. I cried because my husband hasn't touched me in 3 years this May. We both are young (he is 38 and I am 33) of course the obvious goes through my head: He's cheating on me, he doesn't find me attractive, etc, all of which he's assured me isn't true. And than I wrote this:
I look in the mirror and don't like what I see.
The rolls, cellulite and jelly belly.
So now I must punish myself. But the question is how?
I can eat and eat and continue to grow or exercise until I blow.
I think I will pick the latter in hopes I don't get fatter because all I see is gross.
I'm disgusting. I'm revolting. I'm
undesirable. I'm not plump I'm just fat.
I'm not fluffy, I'm grotesque.
These are words that fit me perfectly,
better than any pair of skinny jeans ever will.