does it ever end?
after a year long journey, i'm finally the smallest weight i've ever been in my adult life -- in fact, i probably haven't been this small since 5th grade. i'm proud of myself for getting here, but i still feel like crap about myself and the way i look every day i get up in the morning and step on the scale. all i can see is the fat on my arms and face or the way my thighs jiggle and how gross my body still is and i'm scared that i'll never be normal and that people will never look at me without either thinking, "that girl is fat" or "that girl used to be fat".
i look at myself compared to others and i know that even though i've come a long way, i'm still not normal. i'm still the fat girl. i still get looks when i eat in public or go for a jog or take my dog for a walk. i thought that it would be better now, but it's not in a lot of ways. i feel frustrated and tired and impatient. it's not that i want to stop dieting or exercising, i just want to stop being the big girl. and it sucks knowing that i'm still going to be that even at 150 lbs, when i finally reach goal and have dropped 124 lbs. i'm still going to be too fat, i'm still going to have a double digit pant size, i'm still going to have flab thanks to how much i've punished my body through binge eating. my breasts will always look awful, i'll always have horrible stretch marks, i'll always be afraid of finding a partner because that inevitably means i'll have to take my clothes off.
all of this work, and my life will never be "normal". i'll always have to worry about relapsing, i'll always have to count calories, i'll always have to be upset over a missed day at the gym. i mean, yeah, i'm going to be healthier and definitely happier compared to how things were when i was 270+, but i can't shake this feeling that i'm always going to be depressed because my dreams of being skinny weren't what i had thought they'd be.
i still feel disgusting. i still feel ugly. i hate that i have to squeeze into size 12 pants, even after all of this work. i hate that my weight loss has slowed down so much. i hate that i don't know whether i'm going to lose 9 lbs one month or 3 the next. i hate that i have unrealistic expectations set up for a trip i'm taking to NYC in december, and that every time i find myself falling short of a goal i've set for myself, i feel even more fat and disgusting and awful. i hate that there's no end in sight.
anyone else been at this for a while and just feeling totally hopeless? i've bottled this up for a really long time and haven't felt able to bring everything to words until tonight.


