Yesterday was a struggle for me because I was mucho depressed, and the lack of motivation turned into my being anxious about my not burning enough calories, or eating too much. When I look at my exercise and calories log for yesterday on my Fitbit, everything seems pretty normal to me. Apparently that’s not good enough because I’m right on that fine line thinking that I’m doing a great job and thinking that I’m actually doing a fucking horrible job and not getting anywhere with my weight loss goal (or anything else I do for that matter!) For Godsz sake, I skipped guitar practice two days in a row and I only have it on Tusk two days a week!
I did manage to get language practice in though, as I should considering Duolingo is like… $135? a year.
I’m mad at myself for not being my absolute best self, and then I forgive myself the smallest amount possible for accomplishing little things like that. French and Japanese practice on Duolingo? Is that really helping me? It’s hard to tell since I can literally only keep up with it for three weeks before I just forget about it altogether.
Today was a little better because Thursday and Friday are my weigh in days and I felt happy with the number I saw displayed on my enemy, da scale. My friend and I also rescheduled, so it felt like such a mental relief knowing that I would be preparing my own meals today instead of ordering delicious, mouthwatering takeout that I am actually dying for let’s be real.
Instead we are going to have boring carbs and boring protein and boring vegetables, same as always because evidently this diet is working, believe it or not based on how much I complain about cheating days and the emotional anguish associated with being me. When I think about making diet-friendly, low calorie meals I die a little inside each time, but when I see that my weight is actually going down a healthy amount in a fairly healthy amount of time (da fukkk?!), sometimes I think all this diet and exercising and healthy living is the way to go.
Then I have my bad days like yesterday when all I can think about it how poorly I am doing on my diet and how much weight I will be at my next weigh in and how many pounds I still need to lose to be at my goal and how many calories I have left to eat and when the sun is going to go down so I can walk outside without anyone really seeing me around the neighborhood and be on to what I am doing. Meh.
Actually, I do have that same anxiety about walking outside every day, although my reasoning is always different. I used to not think of myself as being agoraphobic because I considered myself to be outgoing whenever some shenanigans were afoot. Now, I think my irrational fears about going outside puts me into that category? I don’t want to self-diagnose.
I always self-diagnose myself because I am both a physical hypochondriac and emotional hypochondriac, according to other people I know. I resent when they call my that, however, because I refuse to let anyone see I’m anything other than what I tell them. But… I just called myself a hypochondriac here… so I guess everyone is right. :p
TO BE FAIRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR, I actually did get hit by a car walking around my neighborhood before. I was on the sidewalk tho, and the car jumped the curb. So pretty much that could happen any time I walk outside and I’m never really safe from my other adversary, heavy machinery.
This is New York City, tbh, I know so many people and animals who have been hit by cars around here that is almost inevitable even when you’re just waddling along on your way to pick up the laundry like I was.
I think that my bigger anxieties about walking outside are mostly about people looking at me. Sexual harassment was rampant in my past and now I hate walking outside alone because of all the scrubs hanging out the passenger’s side of their best friends’ ride, trying to holla at me. Also when the scarier of the male psychos I’ve encountered do even more questionable behavior like following me up the street in their car while I walked, literally smack or grab my ass in a club, or even the classic run-her-down-while-she’s-crying-and-try-to-get-her-number. Just call it predatory behavior, folks. Surprisingly, only men have done this to me! What a shock.
On top of being leered at by disgusting men, once I gained weight, I couldn’t stand the idea of anyone looking at my grotesque body and I hobbled around the block then returned home sweating and panting. I barely sweat and pant now, but I still need a chill pill if I go far from home by myself.
Is that progress? It definitely got worse during quarantine, but then again, what didn’t?
22 minutes today. I’M DOING IT!