I’m in a kind of crappy place this morning. I arrived home last night and this morning I’m feeling grumpy. I’ve spent the past month and a half wearing pants and shorts that are way too big. I refused to buy another set of “intermediary” clothes so I told myself I would live with my big clothes until I could fit into my small clothes again.

At my last weigh-in I was only 2 pounds away from being the weight I was before getting pregnant with my son, from the weight I was when all those small clothes fit.

This morning I just couldn’t face putting on a pair of shorts that were so big they slide down my hips and show my underwear anymore. I pulled out a pair of my old shorts and put them on. They fit.

Basically.

I should be happy.

But I’m not.

They fit just enough to be wearable.

They are tight enough to make me feel fat.

The fact that I’m wearing pants that are exactly half the size of the old ones should make me feel good. But sitting here at the table in pants that pinch around the waist just makes me feel bad about myself. It makes me feel bloated; stuffed like a sausage.

It makes me feel ugly.

I want to eat to make this feeling go away.

I want to starve myself to make this feeling go away.

No wonder the cycle of my weight loss so destructive.

I’m also feeling frustrated because now I am home and I want to weigh myself. I managed to get dressed and eat breakfast this morning before going into the bathroom that has the scale. Now, it’s not a possibility to weigh myself today. I’m sane enough for that at least.

There is such a split between the damn scale and the clothes. The number on the scale has meaning, but the clothes mean more. I wish they could align better.

But, I’m going to try to focus on the fact that today instead of eating over these feelings I’m just writing about them; trying to focus on moving forward and continuing to improve my myself.

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