Up half a pound. I'm devastated. I actually cried this morning when I got on that scale. No, of course this isn't my first gain. But I worked my ass off this week!!! I tracked EVERY SINGLE BITE that I put in my mouth. I worked out EVERY DAY except Saturday. I ate a cup of cabbage for breakfast every day people!!! CABBAGE!!!
Please, don't leave me comments like "Hang in there, muscle weighs more than fat, smiley face parenthesis!!" Or "Maybe you need to eat MORE so your body doesn't think you're starving, smiley face parenthesis!" I know y'all love me, and are trying to make me feel better, but those comments are LITERALLY like a knife to the gut. I don't know why. I've been doing this for SO LONG, I know all the tricks. I know what fatties tell themselves to try and make themselves feel better. I know weight loss takes time and it's a lifestyle, not a diet, and more than ANYTHING, I know that I just shouldn't have gained seventy pounds with each pregnancy.
But knowing all that? Doesn't make me feel that much better. I'm sort of thinking that maybe this is my new normal. Some people are just fat, right? They just walk around, being fat, living their lives. Maybe that's me now. A fatty. Maybe I should just give in and accept it?
My goal of 158 by Hawaii (how do you like THAT, Past Jenn?!?! Ever dreamed a weight loss GOAL would be one fifty eight!?!?! YOU SUCK!!! STOP EATING SNICKERS!!!) is all but impossible now. It's eleven pounds, and I'm leaving in about eight weeks. So that'd be a pound and a half a week, no gains. And we've got Thanksgiving and Christmas, and we're having Prime Rib for both. So that's TWO mini goals, both easily attainable and reachable, that I will not have made.
This isn't fair. Being a grownup sucks. I can't even wallow on the couch in self pity because my stupid kids don't care, they want all this annoying crap like FOOD and HELP WITH THE POTTY and CLEAN DISHES and DRY CLOTHES. Ugh.