Those are three words that describe how I feel about my diet and fitness efforts lately, and generally about myself.
In late September, I was in a wedding. This is the picture. I'm the girl on the left at the end. Nice dress, right?
Well, I figured I'd wear it for my company Christmas party in the middle of December, two and a half months later.
Except it didn't fit.
My dear fiance, Gary, was kind enough to spend 10 mintues with me trying to get the zipper up in the back. Of course it fits. Don't be ridiculous - I just wore it! is what I was thinking.
Finally, the zipper was up but the dress was bunching in the back, obviously too small. I bit back tears as Gary told me that it didn't matter, I was lovely, why don't I put on the black dress I wore the weekend before?
He loves that black dress. I wore it when we got engaged.
I hate it. It's a safety dress. It's black stretch jersey, draped in front, and hides a multitude of sins - and big fluctuations in waist size.
That day I added mortified to the list of words that describe how I feel about my body. And I sat around for the rest of the month, shoving whatever I wanted into my mouth and not going to the gym - because what's the point? I am fat.
Then today, I woke up, and after I blinked back my hangover, I realized that I don't want this to happen on my wedding day. I don't want this to happen on any day, ever again.
I'm tired of being embarassed and hiding in well-cut drapey dresses. I'm tired of putting the jeans that make my butt look awesome in the back of the closet because I've gained a bit too much weight to pull them off. I'm tired of looking at photos and thinking they should be titled, God, Look at How Fat My Arms Look.
I'm tired, and feeling quite depressed about it. I want to be done with wallowing and just DO it already, dang it.
Anyone else with me?