25 November 2019
The thing is, I tried to lose weight this year. I lost a few pounds last year, enough that my endocrinologist noticed without seeing the number on the scale, but it has not budged since March, and between January and then I only dropped four pounds.
This chit is frustrating. I can't really cut my calories any further--I'm already at 1200-1300--and I upped my activity. But the scale is not budging and by now I think I would notice if there was a shift from body fat to lean muscle mass.
Granted, I can feel my quads under the fat, but that's about it. If anything, my waist is flabbier and I damn near have wings (note to all you young people: get in shape now, and stay in shape, otherwise you'll hit 50 and have these THINGS attached to your arms, things that jiggle and wiggle and are in danger of making you take flight if you spread your arms out wide.) I am not satisfied with any of this.
For starters I AM HUNGRY.
Okay, not really. But I have the munchies, like all the damned time. I'm not even high.
And bear in mind, I am not asking for advice. I don't particularly want advice. I'm just whining. I'll either lose more weight or I won't, and my life will go on just fine. But I damn well wish about 30 more pounds would come off.
[Note to whatever genie in a bottle I come across: no, I don't mean drop an arm or a leg. We all know what I mean. Body fat. Don't play your mean little wish-giver games on me. I am hungry enough I will eat you.]
[Note to anyone who wants to tell me to accept myself: screw that. This is about getting healthier. Also, it's about being able to wear a really tight t-shirt and feel good about it. Accept yourself, go for it; I want to be fit.]
[Note to the Cenario's Pizza guy...do NOT tell anyone how often I am in there.]
I really want some cake right now...