Am not happy. Despite dieting my shrinking behind off, I did not lose weight this week. It could be because I'm adjusting to the new weightwatchers regime, or it could be because I've got a scorching case of fluid retention or it could just be because sometimes dieting sucks. Who knows.
So, am blogging about the fat clothes I got rid of on the weekend in an attempt to cheer self up and keep motivated and stop eating fantales.
Well, its a strategy. :)
The clothes have gone to Vinnies.
I cannot tell you the number of times people who have lost weight, who have tried to give me their old fat clothes. Seriously. It happened again just a couple of months ago. Why anyone who had lost weight would look around for their nearest overweight friend and go 'oh you look like you're a 16, here have my old stuff,' is beyond me. Its devastating and humiliating. And honestly, whilst I firmly believe in people's good intentions, to do that to someone is a sign that you are not a friend. Yes, yes, I know they're often nice clothes and yes, the person is most likely right, they'd probably fit. I understand their logic. But the reality of this situation is cruel and hurtful.
This setback - of working incredibly hard on weightloss and getting nowhere - is really the first serious challenge I've faced. I'm surprised by how desperately I want to eat and how I've gone right back to the usual justifications and self-talk that I thought were dead and buried about six months ago.
sigh.
Wish me forbearance.
