I was doing so well. I've been following a running plan from a running coach. This is my second week on the plan and I'm over half way through the week. I get two rest days, Sundays and Wednesdays. Every other day I'm running. True, I haven't been eating the best, but I haven't been eating terribly either. I've been on shakey ground emotionally though, since the numbers on the scale aren't budging.
And then today, a second person asked if I was pregnant again.
I can't stand the way I look right now. I hate how much I weigh. I hate the "spare tire" around my waist. I hate how my clothes fit, or don't fit more often. I even hate the way my shadow looks on the wall next to the treadmill when I run.
I was holding it together, because I was at least moving in the right direction, right? Even if I wasn't seeing results yet, they were coming, right?
After this, I just want to quit. I want to curl up in a ball somewhere dark and hide forever. I just want to give up.