mousapelli | just what the fuck ever

about three days ago, I mentioned in passing to special ed teacher friend that I had finally inched my way down to -10 lbs since January, and even though that's a number of hours at the gym per pound that I don't even want to think about, you know, at least it's progress, and that it seemed like in the last couple weeks, the progress had been minimally more regular, so I was feeling pretty good about that.

henceforth that will be known as mistake #1, because the next morning i was up 2 lbs. okay, whatever, that happens a lot especially if i've gone hard at the gym the day before, fine. the next day i was up 2 more, which is annoying, but still not that shocking, so again, whatever.

this morning I was up 3 more. that is 7 fucking pounds in three days. do you know how long it took me to lose those 7 pounds in the first place? what the fucking fuck. I haven't been drinking soda or skipping the gym or doing anything else weird, this week is exactly the same as the last 20 weeks, and even if those weeks weren't full of weight loss, at least I wasn't gaining seven fucking pounds in three days.

and now i'm super ridiculous irritated about it, because i just got through saying how I thought it was getting better. why does this have to be so horrible and annoying all the goddamn time?

so then i went to the gym to try and at least downplay yesterday's post-graduation damage (not that I ate THREE POUNDS of food, or even had a soda while everybody else around me had fancy fruity drinks), but ugh, the whole time I was really just thinking to myself how much I hated every single second of it and how tomorrow i will totally be up some more weight because of doing serious stuff at the gym, so there's not only no way to come out ahead, i can't figure out any direct relation at all to what i'm doing in terms of either eating or exercising over time vs what the hell my body is doing. i'm sick of being sweaty and sore and getting totally nothing out of it.

i don't want advice or whatever, because nothing you're going to say is going to change the fact that this is just another example of how my body sucks and no amount of doing any number of things that I hate is ever going to change it in anything but minor ways. It's my own damn fault for thinking that maybe this would stop sucking quite so much at any point, and you'd think after 29 years of being this way that I would learn my lesson, but no.

also i have what i think might be a bugbite on my calf for which 'alarming' is kind of an understatement, and now there's kind of a red ring around it that's warm to the touch. hopefully it's just another horsefly bite, because those usually do turn nasty for me, and the ibuprofen and neosporin will do something about it, because if i even have to take yet another trip to the doctor and get weighed at this moment, I will not at all be responsible for my actions in public.

ugh tomorrow is last student useless baby-sitting half-day and i just would give anything to not have to see first period's stupid faces tomorrow morning.