This past week has been full of disappointments.
I am NOT happy with my appearance. At all. I’m not happy with my hair and skin. Something hormonal is going on to where my hair and skin are both very dry, which means my hair has been pretty unmanageable and my skin pretty itchy in inopportune places at inopportune times. And I’m still thirty pounds overweight. Mind you, I am aware that weight loss takes time. I have been steadily putting on pounds with each pregnancy, so it’s not like I expected the weight to fall off. I did expect to see better results than what I am seeing. I have been keeping track of my expended calories and steps with my FitBit and adjusting my food intake accordingly. Despite eating close to flipping nothing I still could not squeeze my thick dinosaur hamhock thighs and donkey butt into a pair of flipping size 15 shorts today when my husband was kind enough to cut me loose in the mall so I could find a few things to wear for our cruise in June. I almost cried in the fitting room. I did not, I repeat did NOT, want to go up a size, but I had no choice. And it infuriated me.
I’m tired of watching my husband shovel in sweets and fast food and everything else on earth he wants to eat with no flipping consequences or repercussions. I’m tired of seeing women who’ve have kids that are able to lose the weight within months. Don’t even get me started on the women who have the luxury of avoiding stretch marks. I don’t even like looking in the mirror. I have no idea how I’m going to ever get rid of this disgusting stretchy flap of skin that now sits where my babies once sat while they were cooking. I hate that I have to give up things that give me pleasure so I won’t look like a big fat shapeless gelatinous brown blob with hair. I.LOVE.COOKIES!!! COOKIES GIVE ME LIFE. But what are cookies? Cookies are delicious empty calories. And I can’t stand water. Why can’t water taste like Pineapple Orange Faygo or Slurpees? If it did, I’d be the healthiest person on earth!
It angers me that I have to get serious about what I eat and really only stick to things with nutritional value. I guess I am going to have to forget about actually ENJOYING eating for awhile, because I am sick of being this fat. All I can wear are t-shirts and loose fitting pants and that is a crying shame considering how cute and fit I used to be. I had a goal to be in my sexy jumpsuit by my husband’s birthday and there’s no way I’m going to be able to do it.
I’m sick of health issues. Yes, I know there are people who have it worse. Believe me, I do. But that doesn’t mean I can’t get frustrated. Apparently I am going through early menopause. Thirty-five flipping years old, and going through menopause (I have to see my doctor to confirm). So in addition to the undiagnosed illness I already have, now I get to deal with the delights of brutal hot flashes that add to the discomforts associated with the fact that I’m always hot anyway; hair growing in places that it shouldn’t on a female; the hair and skin problems mentioned above; and the fact that menopause can cause hormonal garbage that will make it even harder for me to lose weight. WOOPTEY-DOO, LIFE!
When I go out, I hope that I don’t run into people I know, because I know I look a hot frumpy mess. And that just depresses me. It does. Mind you, I am not upset with my FEATURES. I’m just not satisfied with the changes they are going through.
With that being said, I am very much looking forward to church. Every Sunday is like a revival, a chance for me to recommit myself, to refresh and reinvigorate myself in the Lord. Church is where I always feel welcomed and loved even if I look a frumpy mess. No one cares what I look like while I’m teaching kids the Word of God or helping in the kitchen or with the computer system.
Sunday is my day of rest. Rest from all things of the world. A day to simply bask in the goodness of God. I’ll try to keep my negative thoughts about myself to a minimum.
Until Monday, that is.