That you don’t burn calories swimming. That swimming isn’t real exercise and that you can’t lose weight swimming. That you can only lose weight by using exercise equipment.
That Coke Zero has the same amount of calories as regular coke.
What hurts the most is thinking that she’s probably against me ever losing weight.
I secretly, in the dead of night, hope she dies. I’m sick to death of the bullshit that she spews on the daily.
I need honest, detailed reviews.
I’m not caring about the fat burning aspect. I’m wondering if it’ll make me feel energetic. I’m constantly dragging.
Having a wonderfully bad day.
I should be eating breakfast. I should be saying I’m hungry and that I want something healthy and filling but nope, I’m letting depression consume me right now.
My mum asked me why I wasn’t eating anything. I told her it was because I had turkey jerky. Little more than a third of a bag. I’m hungry as hell, my stomach’s growling. I also had two Mounds. But that was just loads of empty calories right there. Nothing’s filling. The protein isn’t filling. I really want to eat. But I won’t. I keep trying to shush my stomach with water.
I’ve already taken my vitamins today. I don’t need anything else, right?
Just going to write. Write and write until I’m a little lost in all of it. I’ve nothing else left. Writing is my escape. And maybe then I’ll sleep a little. We’ll see what comes of this day.
I wasn’t full though. But I ate enough, I mean, I should get used to the smaller portions and what not. Using water to fill me up for the rest of the day. I probably won’t be able to eat anything until dinner. Oh well. That’s only 7 ish hours away.
I feel stupid and bored and I’m in pain. Again, oh well. Just another day in my life.
I might write. Clean up my room. Dunno, we’ll see.
I’m hoping I can add some people on there.
Be warned, I actually do eat most of the time, real food, mostly because of my vitamins I need to take, my family’s suspicion and my IBS.
Some days I’ll keep it low cal and make sure to stay under my limit but then there will be days where I go over and end up purging or starving myself the next day. No biggy.
Username is thinmintme
No judgmental people, please. No matter the road we’re all on we all want one thing in the end.
I still hate myself though, regardless of my size, my daily intake, etc etc. I’ll always have depression issues. Guess you can’t exercise that away, huh? lmao.
So, I’m going to be blunt because, with something like this, there’s nothing left to do but bare all truth.
There’s this girl, woman, whichever, woman technically but I call them all ‘girl’. She’s beautiful, intriguing, has the same name as me and that’s probably all I know.
She makes coffee and might possibly be the new manager at our local Starbucks.
And I really, really like her.
She gives me these vibes, the way she talks to me, looks at me. And I’m always doubting if someone’s flirting with me and that only happens when they actually are. And when she asked me my name the other day, and I told her, and she told me that was hers as well, she got a little side tracked and awkward forgetting the drink I had ordered, hurrying to get it finished.
The thing is, I’m so terribly insecure with myself that I would never get into a relationship with her or anyone else for that matter. It’s always so much safer to daydream about the ‘what ifs’.
So, my challenge, my goal, for myself and the sake of my emotions, I can’t let whatever is happening go any further until I can fit into these really nice cargo, deep olive green pants I have, with the buttons on the calves, cute pockets. If I can fit into those again, I’ll allow myself the sweet privilege of pursuing something I can only believe is unreal and entirely out of my reach.
The most twisted part of all of this is that we’re both what one would call ‘fat’. It’s just the way things are. As strange as it may seem, I’ve no problem with it on others. It’s just me. I hate myself. I probably always will. I can’t even accept that she’d be attracted to me the way I am. I can’t settle for the present.
It hurts to think of her. It depresses me only because it’ll never be a fairytale. It will never be a perfect relationship. It won’t go anywhere. It’ll just be something I’ll ruin in the end because I’ll starve myself even more if and when we’re together.
What have I done in my past life to deserve the current? It’s a wonder that I haven’t killed myself yet. After all this time, even. After all the pain, the mess I’ve created and dug myself further into.
I don’t want to get to a weight severely below a healthy BMI.
I don’t want to see every little bone in my body poke out and I don’t want to collapse doing normal stuff, like checking the mail or taking a shower.
I want to be thin. Hell, I want to be perfect. But I don’t want to die.
And I hate the body I’m in. It’s why I can’t stand the happy-go-lucky weightloss people who, despite their overly large physique, still talk about how much more positive they’re being about their body and the way they look and their progress.
I’m sorry, I can’t identify with that. I admire their determination and in a way I envy the feelings they harbor about themselves. I wish I wasn’t so negative.
But let me say this: I don’t understand how someone can sit there and say, you have to lose weight but you also have to like the body you have right now, appreciate it, pick out your favorite part about it.
Um, come the fuck on, I’m fat, when people are fat, they’re not exactly beautiful and it doesn’t look right when the fat doesn’t stay put. Only a few lucky people seem meant to be fat because it’s normal on them, sexy, even but that’s not me. And while both the pretty fat people and the ugly fat people need to lose weight, there is no way in hell I could look in the mirror and go, ‘Ya know, you do look pretty good. Let’s go for a run to celebrate.’
No, how about, let’s go for a run cos you’re a fat lard oh wait, that’s right, you can’t because you have asthma and while you know it’s not because you’re overweight, you don’t care! Physical induced asthma just makes you look like a heifer and like you’re out of shape.
This is just me seeing myself for what I feel I am. I’m not picking on others with this logic of mine. If you are overweight and you still like yourself and your body, kudos to you, you have me in awe, I respect that. But I just can’t think the same of myself.
Which is why I most identify with the girls who cut calories, measure their food, obsess over being in places with people where there is food present. I identify the most with the bingers and purgers out there. I was there at one point. I hope I never go there again.
I identify with the girls who watch others stuff themselves and talk them down inside their heads.
I identify with the girls who are self-conscious, reserved and afraid of physical contact only because they don’t know what the other person is thinking.
I identify with these people. I am these people. I’m that kind of girl.
I’m sorry if others think I should find another group just because I won’t eat grapefruit and celery all day long or run an hour on a treadmill (which I can’t, tbh, I don’t have an inhaler yet and I really don’t want to die on a treadmill…)
I don’t do positive body image. I’m all for it, I try to have others see themselves in a better light, but when I myself look into a mirror, sometimes, I just want to die or, better yet, crawl into my bed, turn the lights off, draw the curtains and not get out until I’ve wasted away. (I won’t, I promise)
