Ugh...Burning My Bra... Week in Review (updated)

Sunday - 529
Monday - 400
Tuesday - 998
Wednesday - ??? I have no recollection. These days get a default 1200 worst case scenario.
Thursday - 880
Friday - 1000
Saturday - 859

5866 (updated... was missing friday... shit. today turned out ok though)

Bah... high week. I don't like it. In my defense, I was PMSing... That explains the extra pound I found on the scale this morning. Humph. Now it all makes sense. A visit from Aunt Flo. The Red Barron flies again! Apparently we're serving hot clam with red sauce for the rest of the week.

Wonderful. I hate working out in this "condition." I usually don't. But between the binge eating and the lack of workouts, this time of the month is usually when anything I'm doing right falls apart and I relapse into my roll as High Queen of Fatdumbitch. Perhaps I'll burn my bra in protest. No, then I'll be the Sagging Queen of Fatdumbitch and won't even be High anymore. Nobody likes a Low Queen.

Well I'm buying a new bathroom scale, a food scale, and some free weights. hehe All things for weight and weighing. One might think I'm obsessed.

Actually I have a problem. I feel less obsessed. I put the "pathetic" into "apathetic". I have a gift/curse. I'm a happy person. This means no matter how awful anything is, soon enough I can adjust to it and enjoy myself. You might think at first that this is really great. Hooray! Happy no matter how bad things are? If only... Well it's not that great. If you're happy enough when things are bad, you don't do as much to make them better. I'm incredible when I'm in a highly stressed state, or in a rage. God, I'm poetry in motion. First I freak out a bit, but when the emotions become stable enough for logic to kick in, and are still present as motivation, I could conquer a fucking continent with my bare hands. But soon enough... I simma down. Simma, simma, simma.... I get happier, more passive, and then I just don't care so much. The world is a bright shiny place. Why change a thing?

Fuck that!

I'm fighting to keep my focus. Fighting to remember why I'm here. Fighting to remember that I have a real problem. Fighting to hang on to reality instead of slipping into a cushy denial. I wish someone here could literally slap me in the face or punch me in the shoulder every time. I need to be smacked around a bit.

I need my weights. Then I can train harder. Maybe that pain will remind me. Gotta get going. Right now....