Two Hundred Sixty Five

I just couldn’t resist the big baggy T-shirt in between shifts today. I am pretty tired. I slept a normal amount last night, but it’s been a long week. I really want to go back to the fair because on Wednesday I didn’t get to do all the dumb fair stuff I wanted to do. Like the petting zoo or the elephant rides or the mechanical bull or the super fucked up fried food. BUT I am worried about having enough money to move, so I’d rather save as much money as possible. Paying for admission and then all the stuff would be around 50 dollars probably. The pessimist in me is pretty positive that if I do go back to the fair, I’ll be about 45 dollars short of the amount I need to get my stuff up there, because that’s how it always is, but if I don’t I’ll somehow have an extra 100 bucks or something. *SIGH. Fuckin A. Speaking of super fucked up food, I seriously can’t stop eating shit. Like my motivation and will power and self control have completely gone out the window. And the super fucked part of it is that I almost don’t even feel guilty anymore when I eat bullshit. I don’t really know how to fix it. I know that little relapses like this is extremely common for people losing weight, but they suck. I really, really, really hope being in Monterey rekindles my fire. Losing weight is so hard. It’s also a little different because I am, of course, hypoglycemic. My body doesn’t process things like most peoples’ bodies do. Like my normal diet, when I am being good, is immaculate. If a person who wasn’t hypoglycemia ate that way, they’d be so freakin skinny with out even exercising. But since my blood sugar is SO low all of the time that when I eat like 35 carbs in a meal, even if they’re from veggies, instead of my body pulling them through me and burning them for energy, they are automatically absorbed as fat or stored away because my stupid body thinks it’s in “starvation mode” all the fuckin time. So that added struggle makes it especially hard. I don’t even know if it’s possible for me to get as thin as I want to be. I guess only time will tell. Or maybe it won’t. Whatever. I have to go make stupid food before stupid work. Hasta.

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