I catch myself as I write these words and berate my self indulgence as if being 4 stone heavier than I was in January even matters.
My mother is four stone lighter than she was is January but that is because she is dying…
My Second Cousin graduated University this week without his Father there to cheer him on because he died recently.
And I moan about weight gain and the fact I cannot be fucking arsed to get up and exercise.
I’m watching my mum’s hair fall out and her muscles eat themselves and I can’t cherish the muscles I have because I all can see is the fat on top.
I DO NOT WANT TO FEEL LIKE THIS.
I DO NOT WANT MY ENTIRE EXISTANCE TO REVOLVE AROUND FOOD AND HOW MUCH I WEIGH.
My brain screams “get up and live you great big lump. There are people that would long to have the life that you do. To even have a life.” And still I wallow.
I don’t know how to be anything different?
