I realize in the blog world you’re supposed to be upbeat and happy and love yourself 100% of the time, but I’ve always been the girl that says the thing you’re not supposed to say. So.
Today, I feel fat.
My jeans are so tight I feel like they’re sausage casings, and my stomachs are spilling out every which way from the top. Even stretchy pants feel like they’re going to cut off my circulation and fitted tops only highlight the disgusting flotation device around my waist.
Yes, today I feel fat.
Even on a day when I’ve eaten healthy and exercised. Even when I know I’m not actually physically overweight. Even when I can’t say for sure if or how much weight I’ve gained. Even though it’s–gasp–not hormonal. Sometimes, you just feel fat.
I’m beyond the point where a workout would make me feel better. Or even making myself eat healthfully all day–I’m doing that all day every day anyway. And still–I feel fat.
Oh, and let’s go ahead and crown that with fat feeling with the desire to lose weight. Yep, I said it. Not running has resulted in a definite shift in my physique. And I’d like it to return to its previous state. Pronto. But I’m still following that blasted nutrition plan that requires me to eat every few hours. While I’m eating all healthy stuff and avoiding sugar and alcohol, eating all the time feels completely counterintuitive and actually makes me somewhat grouchy.
And while I’m at it? Another thing. I kind of hate my body right now. Yeah, that’s right. We’re not being all lovey dove up in here today. In addition to being all fat-feeling and what-not, my stupid body is totally betraying me with this whole injury deal, and I’m not having it. My back should be feeling significantly better at this point in time, and it flat out is not. Unacceptable. WTF, body? I treat you well. I feed you good things and exercise you regularly and give you plenty of sleep every night. And what do I get? An injury that’s had me limping around for nearly 3 weeks like a gimp. One that hurts almost all the time and seems to be at a steady 6 on the pain scale, barring copious amounts of painkillers.
One last thing. I hate everyone who can still run. I’m sure this is a direct side effect of being injured. I am one bitter chicky, that’s for sure. Every time I read about someone having a great run, or a horrible run, or not wanting to run, or being excited to run, I am BIT-ter. Okay, I don’t really hate any of you, but the bitterness is there. Not running totally and completely blows.
Got anything you need to get off your chest? Dump it here.