I'm in trouble.
I don't have long to type- cause if you'll notice, it's 1 am my time, and tomorrow is only my second day on the new job- so I can't be late. Basically- I've fallen off the wagon. Not only have I fallen off, I can't even see the wagon anymore- it left me in a trail of dust days ago and I'm still suffering from head trauma from the fall. I'm not even sure where I am or what's going on; I don't seem to care. All I know is I'm off the wagon and it's gone. All I know is I want food. Sweets. Treats. Carbs. Death. Bring on the pasta. Bring on the juicy ribeye steak and tons of butter. Roll out every kind of bread in existance. Roll in the hot fudge and pour it all over my body.
All I know is that I started my new job, I love it, but I have NO desire to work out. I have NO desire to even try. I came home from work tonight and thought- I should go work out, I'm home early. Don't worry, I made my way to the kitchen instead. Chocolate, chocolate- I can't get enough of you. Sugar- you are the death of me, and yet I love you. You are crack to me, and I crave your goodness. I just have so much on my plate right now. I'm not trying to make excuses- but really, I have a TON going on. Between starting a new job, trying to find a new place to live, balancing Marty and all of the issues there, and trying to edit this book for Juanita...I've lost sight of my wagon. I'm not even sure there was a wagon anymore.
I know I can't give up. I wanted so bad for this to be the month that I got under 150 and within 10 pounds of somewhere resembling normal to me. I was shooting for 140-145 this month- and I was on track to make it there! On Sat night when Marty and I went out- I was feeling closer to myself than I have in a long time- I think it was the jeans I was telling you about. I FIT IN THEM! But I fell off the wagon and haven't even been able to stand back up to even see where the hell that stupid wagon is. I'm not feeling the diet AT ALL. I don't care one stitch about it.
Marty. MARTY! This is not a dating blog- so I'll spare you the details. But let's just say he is one of the major stresses right now. I just got back from his house. Why does he have to be so cute? Why does he have to kiss me the way he does? Why does he have to tell me I'm so stunning and beautiful and cute and why does spoil me so much? UGH! I hate it, and yet I love it.
Pray for me. Pray hard.
I HAVE GOT to get my shit under control (Sorry Deb).