I said I would keep up on my health. And I took that statement, turned it into cheesecake, and pity ate it as I stared at my belly fat. Depressing much?
I feel like I am being hard on myself, I just had a baby 7 weeks ago, and I am expecting to fit into pants I wore in high school. I couldn’t even do that before I got pregnant with Caroline, so I am not sure why I think I could do it after gained 60 baby pounds (okay, not all 60 were Caroline, but I wish they were).
This pressure to look amazing, keep a clean house, and find a way to still feel like an adult is really killing me. I have stopped seeing other adults because of this, and it’s cause me to shove more and more food into my chunky cheeks.
On a good note, I haven’t exactly gained any weight. I am at 160, so I did lose 7 pounds since my last post, but for some reason I have it in my head I would wake up one day and be 135 all over again.
I have to stop having an excuse for everything. I need to get out of this rut. Tomorrow morning, I will work-out, and I will do something for myself. And that something will not involve sugar, or frosting…or homemade cinnamon rolls. Shit. Being healthy is so much harder than I really wanted it to be.