I will keep it lucid here, since it is a very sensitive topic, for me at the very least. You know that feeling? When you just feel so effing fat?!! Well, I just met with one such, and it has got me sad, rather sulky, I would say.
It’s a nightmare!
Of lately, nothing really fits me. Yes, I am having that experience where you feel murderous, because every single piece of clothing you own is just not the right size of my body. The first tiny pop up is to cancel plans and cry myself into the pillow (best choice ever). Still, after gathering all the courage and failed attempts of fitting with all corsets and tummy tuckers etc., I chose to go, to live my hell.
Eating my way through the occasional bash, I planned N-numbered diets for myself, running miles in my head, I could see myself without these wrong curves. Yes, there are rights and wrongs in curves of our also (no kidding). But then, I was just too tired to implement anything straight away, so that thing went into the trash. And the realisation that pawned upon me was, over the years all I talk about is how fat I am getting, how much I exercised (happened once or twice, don’t give me that look), if that cheese burst will fatten me more or not? And many such thoughts. Now, all I am up to is my brain planning my routine of weight loss and this tires me so much that I avoid doing any of that.
This is my fat girl cry, the undying attempt to get from FAT-TO-FIT. I am still not giving up, hopefully this time it would be me doing all the routines and not just the mind. (Bracing myself already!) *prays the world gets fatter and I look thinnest of all: P*