It's been a few days and I feel it. When you have a whole lot of bullshit to get off your chest but then you don't, where does it go? It certainly couldn't just continue to pile up in a huge heap of shit on your chest, right? Because after a while, physics would have to kick in somewhere and shit would just be falling off the pile, left and right, this way and that, until you found yourself buried in all of the shit you just couldn't get off your chest... right?
Too bad I lack the sense of focus and the time necessary to fully explain my absence and the events it witnessed, but I did want to stop for a moment and provide a small update. I'm not sure if I'm happy about the numbers, but my overall feeling and sense of self are surprisingly not impacted negatively by this week's disheartening measurements. Scale says 142.8. I say shut the fuck up. There's no way I've gained 2.8 lbs...My jeans fit better than ever. So then, what...it's muscle mass? Sure, it's tempting to say that, but that's the easy way out...make yourself feel a little less shitty, will ya? By pretending those reckless binges were all made up? Oh no, they were real...very real... but then, what's this? Well, my good old friend the measuring tape seems to think I'm right on track, still measuring at approximately 34.2 around the bust, 27.8 around my waist, and *cough, gag* 37.2 around my hips. God damn, that hurts. Disgusting, I know, but fuck, I'm getting there. I looked at some pictures of myself from about two years ago and couldn't believe how much I've changed. 20 lbs makes a HUGE difference. Then I took a quick look at some photos of my from last December... No change between then and now. Fuck me. Seriously? All of the bullshit I've put my psyche through, my body through, all of the time and money spent on diet pills and all of the pain of starving/bingeing/hating this...with nothing to show. Not a single...fucking...pound. Sure, my legs look fantastic. I've been running nonstop, daily, and it shows. My ass is looking much better, yes, but why in the world am I nowhere CLOSE to satisfied? I keep saying I'll be happy when I hit 120. But would I? I guess we'll have to wait and see. I'm doing my best to chew gum when I'm hungry in the evenings...There's no excuse for eating after 7. Or even after 6, really, but I'm allowing myself the extra hour because the babygirl eats late.
I'm boring even myself. Off to clean this ENTIRE house... and then camping this weekend...Should be awesome. Cannot WAIT. Sweet escape, indeed. Thanks for your attention...carry on.
;)
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