Weekly Weigh-in/Check-in

No change in the scales. While I'm not terribly surprised, I AM terribly frustrated. *sigh*

I still can't seem to get a handle on the whole "eating sensibly" thing. I'm still going out with my friends. I'm still eating things I know aren't helpful to the cause. I've been guzzling sugared up coffee like it's my job and I haven't done any of the active things I'd planned on.

I'm just failing. I'm failing at life. Failing at eating properly. Failing at doing the things I know I'm supposed to do. Failing at really trying.

I'm expecting good results from bad behavior. So not only am I failing but I'm also stupid.

*sigh*

I'd like to blame it all on stress. I read an article on Sparkpeople.com the other day about how stress is the secret culprit to weight gain. And yeah, I am stressed but I doubt that it has much to do with my weight right now. My problem is a direct result of my behavior of doing the exact opposite of what I know I need to do. And I'm so tired of it all. I am my own worst enemy. The more I want it the more I work against myself.

Last night, for instance...I knew after having eaten out with my friends that I should eat a light supper. Did I? I did not. I ate two slices of leftover pepperoni pizza and a scrambled potato. (Yes, I said scrambled potato. It's a potato that's baked and then cubed, slightly smashed and then fried in a cast iron skillet until browned and crumbly. It's a comfort food throwback from my childhood.) Then I ate one of the weight watchers ice cream candy bars I bought last week even though I'd had a dipped ice cream cone after lunch yesterday.

See? I sabotage all over myself. I sabotage myself so hard. I diligently seek out ways to thwart all of my good intentions.

And I hate it. I hate myself, I hate my gut, I hate my stupid need for all things bad for me. I even hate that I hate myself. Why can't I just live my life and be happy and healthy and not have to think about what I eat or how it's going to affect me and ultimately make me miserable? Why can't I just be normal? Why do I have to have such a messed up view and relationship with food? And why, for the love of Pete, can't I just say no to the things I know make me fat?

And what's worse, I eat the things I eat because I think they're going to make me happy and yet they never do. Oh, they may thrill me for the two minutes it takes me to eat them but then I spiral into self loathing and the self loathing mingles with the unhappiness that made me try to eat my emotions to begin with. It's this viciously twisted spiral that I don't quite know how to get away from.

I wish I could find some encouragement.  I wish my friends loved me enough to realize that having fun doesn't have to involve eating out. I wish when my mother lectured me on eating/weight I could take the lecture as encouragement instead of criticism that sends me further into my downward spiral.

I wish I could just love me and be okay with myself.

I wish others could just love me and be okay with me.