September 25, 2016
I’m so fucking fat. How could I have possibly let myself get like this? I wasn’t even this fat when I was pregnant. I have no willpower anymore. I can’t pass up anything with sugar in it. I eat like a pig. I’m hungry all the time and I just give in. I hate how I look and feel. I have no clothes that fit. I look like a slob all the time. I hate seeing pictures of myself. I have a fat, flat bum. Even my face and neck are fat. No wonder my husband doesn’t want me. I wouldn’t want me either.
I don’t want me. Any of me.
There’s too much noise in my house. Everyone seems to yell all the time. I just want to escape from everything. I want to leave for a bit, take a break from my body and my life. Live in the clouds and treetops. I’m stressed. I’m anxious. I’m sad.
I’m done. What do I even have to keep trying for anyway? What quality of life can I even strive for? What the fuck is the point? I’m in such a bad mood. It’s gone on for 3 days now. I’ve been really good about not taking it out on my family, but today I’m just done with that. My husband does some pretty stupid shit sometimes and I feel like I can get mad about it today. Until he cleans the bathroom (his job, which I’ve done for him for the last 3 weeks), I have no desire to not take my grumpiness out on him.
We had my sons 5th birthday party this morning. I’m too grumpy to say what a great time it was, instead I’m just glad it’s over. It seemed like so much work. Everything seems like so much fucking work when you feel like shit all the time. I’m so done.
Yesterday I was actually thankful for being mad, if thats believable at all. I was happy that I had the energy to feel angry. Usually I’m too tired to feel angry, and settle somewhere more on melancholy or disappointment. I’m not thankful today. I’m just back to being downright pissed off.
And very, very fat.