What the hell is happening.
I am 118lbs. I was 119 yesterday. I am not even eating that much. Well, more than I should be but still less than 2000 calories a day. And I'm exercising a lot. I am essentially doing what normal people do. But normal people don't have to put up with fat literally growing on their hips and thighs at the speed of light. And today has been so utterly miserable. My depression has been quite painful these past few days and so I have been walking around all tragic and woe-is-me which is exactly what I shouldn't be doing. I should have a smile plastered across my face so no one can see that I'm disappearing in the best possible way. I'm scared that my new meds have stopped working. They were making me so happy and active and talkative before. I was a completely different person.
I bought some new jeans today. I shouldn't be spending money but I did and when I took them home, the button wouldn't even fasten. So I had ice cream. And two packets of crisps. And toast. And chocolate. And now I am going to have to face the scale telling me I am 120 tomorrow. I am quite tempted to skip the scales and pretend tonight did not happen and try and somehow get back to that focus I had not so long ago. I want my thinness back. I want thighs that don't jiggle and rub together when I walk. I want my beautiful cheekbones back.