Last night I emerged from the bathroom in tears. He had just posted photos from our weekend adventure and there it was...
My. Big. Fat. Butt.
I've been working out hardcore for a month, but I guess not hard enough because I haven't lost any significant weight. We have a wedding to attend this weekend and I'm dreading it.
Last night I just sobbed and sobbed. I felt fat. I felt sad. He wasn't helping me. I just wanted to go home and work out. It's all I can think about. That and not eating.
If I eat, I will get fat.
The toughest part of relationships is that you have to spend time together to make it work. I am naturally antisocial, a solitary individual. I do best on my own because that means no one is watching and judging. I grew up in an extremely judgmental home, so being alone was my escape even though it was lonely (duh).
But spending the weekends with Him, I have no alone time. My alone times are those few days during the week after work. I have to cram as much work out and not eating as I can because once the weekend hits I have to hang out with Him eating and hardly doing the 2-3 hours of work out I need to.
I can't do it anymore.
So, I sobbed and sobbed. I don't feel confident in myself. I can't fit into any of my clothes. He gained weight once; He should know how it feels. I'm tired. I just want to relax, but I can't. I want to fit into my clothes more.
And I'm resentful because it's so easy for Him to sit there and just say "work out" one minute, then asking me if I really don't want to have dessert the next. He can eat 3000 calories in a day. Just having a serving of mango sorbet is 15 minutes on the elliptical for me.
I don't know if He "got it" finally after I explained through my tears.
I can't sleep tonight. That's precious time wasted when I could be working out.
Recent Comments