...at weight control. So "Happy 100 posts" to FMFO, and "Happy Back to Having Lost NOTHING" because people keep sending sweet stuff home to my house that I can't seem to leave alone. And I think I've mentioned that I'm not like most people. It doesn't take me months and months to gain five pounds. It takes days. If I have a "bad week", where I indulge occasionally in a sweet or two, I gain SEVERAL pounds, even if I eat right "most" of the time. This week, I am already up three pounds. Three. I've a had a couple of cookies, a piece of cake, and two mini-donuts. Three sweets, three pounds. Seems logical, right? And it wouldn't be so bad if those weren't the last three pounds I had lost, that I have now gained back. Nice, huh. I oughta be ashamed of myself...oh wait, I am.
What's so infuriating about it is that I KNOW how to eat right, I enjoy eating right, but I am a sugar addict. So if I eat a little bit, I inevitably want more and inevitably eat more of it, until I am soon once again full-blown addicted and eating too much (read: eating any) of the wrong stuff. And since I have no metabolism to speak of, that's all it takes for me to pack on pounds, and quickly.
It's not the same for me as it is for "normal sized" people. If you're ten pounds overweight, adding three would still mean you only needed to lose 13. I can't even say out loud anymore how much I need to lose without my face getting red and me feeling embarassed. I never dreamed I'd be a fat girl. Never even imagined it was possible. And now it's not only possible, it's my reality. And it doesn't seem to be changing any time soon. I should just get back on the SB plan right away, but I know what that will do for Christmas. Or what Christmas, more accurately, will do to the plan. Not that it's not possible to eat well, and healthily (is that a word?) on SB at holidays, but it's not fun, that's for sure. Mom's fudge, and strawberry bars, and MIL's texas sheetcake will all call to me.
I didn't used to be such a damn pansy about food. When I decided to lose weight, that was it. NO whining, no letting myself "feel" deprived, I just did it. But then again, that was before my metabolism went permanently through the floor, my will power apparently went to shit, and my ass got bigger than I ever imagined possible. I hate having saddle bags. I mean, I really, really hate it. They're like having ass extentions.
It's almost more than I can bear to be fat like this. I promise I would be grateful to have problems like "I need to tone" or "I can't drop this last 12 pounds" or "my size 8s feel tight". I've already conceded to myself that I will NEVER look good naked again - two kids worth of stretch marks made sure of that - but I'd settle for looking good in clothes that were purchased in the "normal" section of any given store. I don't need perfection, but I have gotten so far from where I used to be that I don't know how I'll EVER get back.
I am SICK OF THIS SHIT. SICK OF IT. And I know you're sick of hearing it. So I'll stop. Thanks for reading. A happier post to come, I'm sure, soon. I wish you all better luck than me in fighting the holiday bulge!