So much to write, I truly don't know where to begin.
I just returned from a trip to Pittsburgh, where I ate my way from one end of the city to the other. Picture Pac-Man eating all those little dots and cherries, except replace the dots and cherries with ice cream and fried-everything and you've got my trip. Except Pac-Man is much more attractive than I was on this trip.
I already looked bad, worse than I had in years. And once I decided I was not going to diet on this trip (kind of like I hadn't dieted this whole month), I proceeded to exhibit signs of an alcoholic. An alcoholic doesn't just drink one glass. No, he drinks bottles and bottles until he is drunk out of his mind. With my food addiction, I ate until I was sick. And then I ate some more.
Pathetic.
When I look back on the first three months of the year and how good I was and how frustrated I was with my slow weight loss, I want to scream at Old Me and say, "You're doing awesome. It's coming off and will keep coming off. You just have to stick with it and know that eventually you'll get there. The alternative is you GAIN and you don't want that."
(Yes, I know what some of you are thinking: "Diana, I DID scream those things at you! You just didn't listen!")
So instead of being at my goal weight this lovely June day, I am heavier than I was when I first weighed in back in January. Yep. And I officially did something I am incredibly ashamed of: I entered the sacred 100 pounds-lost territory I swore I never would enter. You see, back five years ago, I lost 150 pounds. I regained 50 pounds but swore I'd never enter those first 100 pounds lost. Today, I forced myself on to the scale. 220 pounds. It pains me to write that.
I am deeply ashamed.
As I sit here squinting out of eyes surrounded by face fat, I hate myself and what I've done to myself. I hate that my running has suffered and that I'm miles behind my running goals. I hate that I enter summertime that big, sweaty fat girl whose fat can be seen bulging from short-sleeve shirts and shorts.
Yes, today is a new day. Yes, I've said that countless times before. But, yes, I'm back and I will try again.
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Please don't give up. I know every day is a struggle and it's mostly mental. Food is an addiction, and it's so easy to fall off the wagon. All you can do is keep trying. I know you have it in you. You are such a strong person and have been such a great support for me. Don't forget to support yourself. And please know that if there's anything I can do to help, all you have to do is ask.
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