One Hundred Thirty Eight

Fuck. Today was too long. If I look totally weary and creepy and exhausted in this picture, it’s because I am. The entire day was hard. Mostly because I felt exhausted the entire time. I didn’t even go to the gym tonight. I planned on it, but after I got off at Moma’s there was no way I could have worked out. Even if I would have been able to gather up the crumbs of my strength to go to the gym, I wouldn’t have been able to work out hard enough for it to really do much for me. So,… shit. I feel like a loser lame ass for not making it, but whatever. It happens. I did only have Moma’s tomorrow night, but I am now covering an opening shift tomorrow at Yogurtland. So including today, that will be 3 thirteen hour days in a row (which doesn’t include gym time), plus an 8 hour opening shift on Sunday. Weekends are like my worst enemy. I hate them. My Thursdays are pretty much my Mondays. I am not into it. This whole gaining three pounds thing has really messed with my head. I keep thinking this is the ever impending event that spirals me back to 200 pounds. I look in the mirror and see myself 30 pounds ago. I feel dread towards working out or making the right diet choices because in my brain it will have been for nothing because I am expecting terrible things on the scale this week. Ugh. I’m feeling incredibly inferior. Like, crying whenever I find a second alone with my own thoughts inferior. I’m not even sure to whom. Myself, maybe? If that even makes sense? Everyone? Something like that. I have been craving the worst foods lately. It’s worse when you are worn out and tired, because food sounds good, but bad, easy food sounds amazing. I wanted McDonalds SO badly tonight. I was so hungry at work. I was watching this guy eat big, twirly, tomatoey fork fulls of pasta {creeeeeeep} and it seriously almost physically hurt me to watch. I was so hungry and jealous and bitter and sad. But mostly bitter. I want pasta, dammit. I just want to be able to eat whatever shit I want with out thinking twice about it. Fuck that guy. Anyway, I need to get some sleep. I’m just throwing up low-blood sugar, sleep deprived, worn into the ground craziness all over this entry. Peace the fuck out, bitch.


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