Tonight was that night.
I’ve reached my absolute breaking point with my weight loss struggle. My tears are mixing with sweat that is pouring (well, not literally pouring) off my face. I know my blood sugar is probably quite ridiculous right now. I haven’t felt this way since the Valentine’s Day Chocolate Massacre of 2013. My stomach is staging a coup that can rival the one in Cairo. I have a rumbly in my tumbly far worse than any honey induced one that Pooh has ever experienced. I feel the impending need to vomit.
I’m disgusted and disappointed.
I told TheHubs to NOT let me eat like this anymore. I can’t. I can’t keep feeling like this. It’s like I never learn. It’s like food controls me. Hypnotizes me.
But as I sit here, poised to sprint to the bathroom at a moments notice, I can’t allow this anymore. One day of this should be enough to kick my ass back in gear. For the first time in a few weeks I feel sick, heavy, tired.
I have to stop the slip from turning into a full on slide…