I'm at it again. The end of my rope. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired... and I hate the thought that every single frikking thing I have to put in my mouth has to be judged, weighed, given points, or altered to fit a diet plan.
I'm tired of eating Healthy Choice frozen fish meals with broccoli.
I want real food.
I want to be thin and gorgeous and 25 again with ripped abs while eating 30-something flavors of Baskin Robbins...
But, instead, I have to sit around listening to my male friends yammer incessantly about how they are so attracted to babes in tiny bikinis... when I'm sitting next to them. Like I'm so much chopped liver.
So there's a quandry, eh ladies? Give up the food I love and be miserable so these flea bags can have some eye candy and I can get my abs back... or relive my Pamela Anderson days (hah, as if) while pretending to be happy munching on carrots and bean sprouts.
Guess I'm feeling out of sorts today. You don't have to agree with me or support my whining. I lost 20 pounds on Weight Watchers, but due to a switch in some medications, I gained it all back. Now, I'm back at the bottom of the mountain - looking upward again and thinking... you know, life just really really sucks sometimes when you're overweight.
Please, don't tell me to be peppy. Or to get off my whiney horse and start climbing the mountain again. I just wanted a place to say that I'm really really unhappy about the whole dang deal. And I wish Reubenesque figures were in.
-Joy (with about 40 pounds to go, but not ready to start today)