Warning: Beee-otchy Self-Flagellating Rant

So, a friend took my photo last night. I'm extremely camera shy, and it was somewhat excruciating, but I love her and she's moving, so I let hr. Yipes! I'm fat! (despite what the very generous and kind Melania thinks.)

I'm at that point where I want to cry about it. I get this way sometimes, and it usually is a harbinger of change. I threw away my old useless scale that was ludicrously inaccurate a few weeks ago. The scale was one of those where you get on it, and it gives you weight A, then you get off and it stops at the 5 pound mark instead of zero, you adjust it, then you step on it again, and you get A-5, etc. So, who knows. The scale had to go.

But I feel like I have no lifeline, and that I'm drowning. Drowning in an ocean of daily less-than-perfect choices. I can step back and KNOW what the problem is, but when it comes down to it, I have trouble making better choices.

It's been like this ever since I gave up artificial sweeteners, diet sodas included. I've been cheating and allowing myself too many "just this once" sugar indulgences". Sunday's are especially difficult. My whole parish gets to watch me fail, and I SO feel like I'm always on display. And the crappy thing is, not only does it make me fat, it makes my muscles hurt, too. So, why am I destroying myself thus?

One reason is, that I'm trying to provide the foods my daughter needs to be healthy (gluten and casein free) and the making of them means I have less energy to make the lower carb things that I need and I end up grabbing whatever's available when I'm crashing.

Every time I go to confession, I confess eating too much, eating the wrong foods. Yes, I know in a broad spectrum sort of way that I have a big problem. I even know some of the foods that give me trouble: Panera pastries at Church, Tortilla chips, pop corn, and plain Cheerios. I ought to switch to low fat/fat free milk products but....sigh. It's funny that I feel guilty about the 1 gram of sugar in Cheerios, but have no qualms about making a "just this once" exception and popping a brownie inmy mouth, where the guilt comes AFTER the fact, not in time to stop me. Dense. And I use too much oil in my cooking. Those are my culinary sins, and they add up, don't they?

Part of me wants to do Weight Watchers, and I HATE weight watchers. This desire is a symptom of how desperate I feel. Ten bucks a week for annoying support and the chance to step onto an accurate scale. Accountability, commerically packaged for my convenience.

Wes, of course, does NOT want to have to pay for weight watchers. That's probably good, on a macro-financial level, but it's just sort of enhances that feeling of drowning that I have. Floundering on my own. Being alone in this.

Yeah, yeah, yeah...I know I'm PMSing, but that does not make how I feel less real.

I'd better go for a walk. But that's the other thing: I've been hit hard with the fibro lately (in part because of my bad food choices, I know) and YET, I still force myself out the door almost every morning, for a four mile walk. It's hard to be happy about walking, even though I theoretically LOVE it, when I'm aching all over.

OK, that's my rant. Now I'll let guilt drive me out the door for some exercise.