Moving on, I am reminded in this cold weather how much I truly detest the treadmill. It is so. Damn. Boring. I plugged away last night on my road to nowhere for almost an hour - a short walk, if I were outside. I typically try to walk or ride as far as I can. I don't come home until I am exhausted. The treadmill is just so.... unnatural. My stride on it is shortened, my posture on it sucks. I'm always worried I'm going to zone out and fall, so I hunch over and stare at the ground. I did walk outside a few nights ago, but it was really cold. I thought my face was going to freeze off. Time to break out the balaclava, which makes me look like a terrorist a la Black September, but keeps my face warm. Unstylishly, scarily warm.
I've been living on protein shakes and trying to eat sensible dinners. I've said this before - and seriously, for me, eating something, no matter how healthy, just leads to more eating. Does that make any sense? If I can get by on liquids and just not eating, it's far easier for me to exercise willpower. I pretty much am like this if I get the slightest hint of something good. Just a bite! Yes, craziness, I know.
I had a total breakdown while trying on outfits for the annual holiday party we go to. My weight is back up (as I knew it would be - you can't lose 5 pounds overnight and expect it to stay off. I lost it from not eating and stress due to a dying cat. Not the healthiest way to go.) but I said to my husband 'I just can't believe I let myself get like this'. And it's true, this is me at my heaviest. One hundred and forty pounds. Not obese by most standards, but by my own, I am hideous. Fat. Grotesque. I cannot stand to look at myself. I hate living in this body. I have always been slender, muscular, cute. This is killing me. I can honestly see where eating disorders stem from - I never really understood it, but then again, I used to be able to eat whatever and not gain an ounce. I can see where you reach the point of 'screw it, I'm not eating.' Which I know, is bad, I'm not stupid. But I'm just frustrated and angry. I eat well, I don't eat processed crap. I eat lean meats and veggies and greens. I eat fruits and nuts. Yes, I indulge in ice cream, but not constantly, I'm not bingeing all day.
I've been trying to up the ante on my workouts. More exertion, and less food. Which is hard. It's hard when I don't feel like I have enough fuel to power a workout. It's hard to go to bed and feel hungry and not just go eat something. But I hate how I look so much, I'm willing to fucking deal with it. I can't pull the cancer card as an excuse, no matter how valid an excuse it is. Dad's illness isn't going away, life is going to continue to be stressful, and I will continue to have no time for me. This will just get worse, not better. So what, do I just keep getter fatter? Does my personal life make it okay? No, I don't think so.
I feel a lot like I'm being sabotaged by my entire family. I never get an uninterrupted workout - ever. It's constant interruptions, constant requests to run errands for my mother or to take my dad somewhere. I don't ask for a lot. My parents never babysit- even before dad was sick. I don't think wanting 30-45 minutes a day is unreasonable. But apparently, it is.
Wow, I didn't realize I was going to vent so much. I'm just really resentful. And knowing it's not going to change makes it so much harder. Something has got to give.