7:11 AM

Discouraged.

It's getting cold around here. Which, means, obviously, it's time to break out the fall clothes. So, this morning, I was rooting through the closet, trying to find something (anything) to wear. The results were dismal.

My skinny jeans laughed at me.

My favorite blazer refused to button.

My button down shirts? Likewise.

And my favorite purple shirtdress from the last time I was heavy? Gaped wildly in the boobage area.

It was discouraging, people.

I'm tired of being fat. Tired of feeling frumpy. Tired of looking at my floofy belly and thinking, that can't possibly be mine. I want to go to bed and wake up magically 30 pounds lighter. I don't want to have to do all this work.

Why can't I be one of those women who pop out a baby and go back to looking normal six weeks later?

Why aren't I more motivated to get up at 5:30 a.m. and exercise?

Why am I having such a hard time giving up cookies?

I hate this. Today, I hate myself.

That is all.

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