And then I gain it all back. Again, and again, and again.
So here I now sit the biggest I've ever been in my life, and I can't get a handle on it.
This year, I've dieted three times. I've lost a total of twenty five lbs (cumulatively--the most was 12) and gained thirty. I have one pair of jeans that currently fit, I only shop at one store these days, and I hate seeing myself in the mirror. I'm out of shape, tired all the time, and stressed. When I'm stressed, I eat. When I'm grieving and crying, I eat. And when I don't want to face my issues, you guessed it--I EAT.
The hardest part?
I'm ready for another baby. I want to get pregnant, but I am unwillingly to try at this current size. I just can't agree to pregnancy at this current state because it will just make it worse. I'm spiraling down. A pregnancy now would just make it worse. I know this. I've known it for about a month. And in the last month? Instead of taking the initiative and DOING SOMETHING ABOUT IT, I've eaten more. Worse. And now? Ugh.
I'd like to tell you that this is a new revelation that will make me stick to it, but I don't know. I'm ready to give it another go. A fourth try. Yet, I can't help anticipating that fourth failure.