I don't like to talk about it, but I've
I had gotten to the point where I basically just didn't care. Why the hell try when I'm destined to fail? Why eat good when I'm just going to be a lard ass no matter what? Why work on my relationship when I won't ever have the marriage you see in fairy tales?
This post is supposed to be about hope, and it will be, I swear. But I wanted to give you a glimpse into where my head has been. How utterly hopeless I've felt. How I was just THIS close to saying fuck it all.
All I can say is thank God I have Fat Girl Slim to tell me we ARE going to eat better, that this shit is ON. Thank God I have a husband that won't let me give up.
Last week I did it, I tracked my food, I did my workouts - I screwed up on Sunday, true - but the scale is inching down!!! It really is.
I CAN DO THIS.
There is hope.
And I have it.