I am lost.
It's like there are two "me's".
There is the "me" that is happy and joyful. That goes to work and talks to people and hangs out with my friends and goes out to eat and cleans my house and lives my life.
Then there is the "me" that feels just plain hopeless about my inability to lose weight. Or at least keep it off when I DO lose it.
The first "me" ignores the second "me" most of the time. But I can't keep ignoring it.
* The weight will kill me.
* I will be 60 this summer and I weigh 230 pounds. How many elderly fat people do you know?
* My knee hurts alllllllllll. the. fucking. time. I'm so tired of it.
I haven't lost weight since I regularly blogged and went from 244 to 201.
I'm not going to put this on Facebook because my friends respond in two ways to my hopelessness and self hate. They either:
1. Baby me by telling me that it's all ok, that I'm fine the way I am, that my weight doesn't matter.
2. Give me advice - words that I already know, damn it! Advice doesn't help. AT ALL. Any advice that anyone gives me I've already given myself a hundred times over.
I don't know what to do.
Should I explore the possibility of a gastric sleeve?
Should I make peace with the way I am now?
These are abstract questions... I'm not really looking for someone to answer them. I am the only one who can answer them.
Do Weight Watchers.
I know the most sensible answers. But obviously, I'm not a sensible person.
Just wanted to let you - someone - know that I'm out here. I'm not looking for answers or sympathy. But, if you read this, please let me know. Let me know that you're there.
That will help.