Look I know I should be sane and logical about this but I'm not. I feel the need to tantrum. I am doing everything right, I am eating healthily, I'm exercising properly, I'm not on a "diet", I've changed my lifestyle, blah blah freaking blah. And yes, technically I'm losing weight - at the sustainable and healthy rate of about 200g a week.
But who the fuck is happy with losing the weight of a decent sized apple every week? I've got sacks of these freaking apples waiting to go and I'm jacked off with having to do it one at a time.
Yes I'm well within my healthy BMI. Yes it is hardest to lose those last few kg. Yes it is important to do it the right way so that your body can cope with it. Yes it is great that I'm being sensible and setting a good example etc etc etc.
But I don't care. I don't. I looked in the mirror last night and I look EXACTLY THE SAME. There is still so much to me that shouldn't be there. Back and arm fat is my nemesis. I put tuckshop ladies to shame. I want in freaking GONE. I want to wear a sleeveless shirt because it's getting goddamned hot (28 degrees here and we have the aircon on in the girls bedroom tonight to cool it down). I don't have a second chin, I just have no chin at all. I have these wobbly bits on the top of my thighs. I have extra drawers for my "love handles" to attach to.
I'm never going to have a modelesque figure and I don't even desire one. All I'm after is one that doesn't make me cringe at the way my bra digs into my flesh creating back boobs, a belly that doesn't look as if I just might be 4 months gone and a butt that doesn't look like it needs its own postcode. I like curves. I like having big boobs. I'm fine with having big hips. I will never be able to wear a halter top even if I don't eat for the next month and I don't care. I just want this fat to be gone.
This is why people get discouraged and give up. It's so hard to do so many "good" things and not get rewarded for it. LH keeps telling me that I have to keep on keeping on and that he thinks I look great anyway... but he's the same weight as he was when we started going out. He had a second serve of carbonara for dinner and then a huge tub of it for lunch. His version of exercise is walking to the train station 5 minutes away. He ate half a tub of icecream for dessert. He can do this with the only thought crossing his mind being "This tastes good. I'm still hungry, wonder if there's any chocolate hidden away".
I wish I'd at least had 5 years worth of pigging out on cheesecake and chocolate that I enjoyed to get this way. Instead of the hormone driven overreating of regular foods and carbs.
Bah, at least I'm honest.
eta I measured myself tonight to see if it was just my brain playing tricks - the old "you're actually much skinnier than you think". I have lost 2.5cm in 3 months nett. I gained 5cm on my legs (please God let that be muscle) and lost a bit from my hips and arms but so miniscule as to make me feel even more depressed. This sucks.