I was thinking about Body Dysmorphic Disorder today. Because of my obsession about how fat, ugly and heinous I am.
But it seems that in many ways I have the OPPOSITE of BDD. Because there are times that I think I look…decent. And I think I am making progress. But then I see myself seated in front of a full-length mirror, or a photo that a friend has taken or get on the damn scale, which hasn’t moved in weeks, and I realize that I am actually a lot WORSE looking that I may sometimes think.
And it makes me never want to leave the house again. SERIOUSLY. What right do I have being out in public when I am this horrific, double-chinned, saggy-flabby armed, wide-load freak of nature?
I went to one of Eric’s co-worker’s wedding yesterday. Saw some pictures from that up on Facebook. I want to CRY. I left the house thinking I looked pretty good. Eric even said I looked really pretty. BUT MY GOD. I look like a fucking ridiculous fool.
I need to really cut back even more. I need to cut back what and how I’m eating, despite all the efforts I’ve made thus far. It’s not enough. I need to continue to step up my workouts, and I’m going to have to cut back even further how much I go out. It’s preventing me from losing the weight I want to, it’s expensive, and I shouldn’t be allowed in public anyway.
I woke up this morning, very tired from dancing and partying at the wedding reception. My left knee was bothering me; I probably twisted it while dancing or something. It happens from time to time. All that fucking weight on my joints. My right forearm was really bothering me as well – I have no idea why. So I REALLY wasn’t feeling working out. Never mind a nightmare that I had at 5am, kept me awake for a while. I was just lethargic and groggy.
But at a little bit before 4pm, I finally sucked it up and went to the gym. 35 minutes on the eliptical, 15 minutes doing the arm machines, and then 15 minutes on the stationary bike. So I’m semi-proud of myself for that.
I need to go grocery shopping soon. Pick up some more Lean Cuisines. Have some low-cal snacks on hand, too. I’m slacking, and it shows.
I want to be a normal, pretty, skinny fucking girl. Why does it have to be so difficult. I wish I could get rid of all the flaws that keep me this way. My own damn fucking fault.
Funny, I’m starting to post a lot more entries lately that I’m NOT pimping out on Facebook or Twitter. I feel bad for any semi-regular readers that I may have that are subjected to this lunacy. Eh. My blog, my rules. If I want to obsess and beat myself until I finally get my shit together, so be it. I just know that I’m hurting so bad about all this, and I can’t get it out. I have no one to vent to about this. I’m alone, and this is the only way I can deal and try and figure it all out.