This is so hard.

I had a few good days and then Thursday hit. It was awful. As was Friday. And Saturday. I don't feel the motivation I felt three weeks ago. I don't know how to get it back and I really just don't want to do this anymore. I don't know what I'm going to do. None of my clothes fit. I'm aware of how awful I look in my clothes. This is so frustrating.

All I want to do today is eat at Whataburger. I could make my own hamburger here with extra lean beef and those Alexia fries, but I don't want to. That's the decision I have to make today. I didn't go to my meeting this week because of my other appt, but I got on my parents' scale yesterday and it wasn't good. I've gained about 3 pounds.

What if this just isn't in the cards for me? What if I'm just supposed to live my life this way and die young because I'm destined to be fat?

I don't think anyone understands how frustrated I am. I can't even bring myself to admit what I weigh right now.

Yesterday my sister and I were going through mom and dad's photos to make a scrapbook for their 50th wedding anniversary in July and I told my sister that I don't want any pics of me after the age of 5 because that's when I started getting fat. My mom, who'd made a comment that went something like "look at all the weight in that picture" when she saw a pic of me and my siblings from Christmas, heard me say that I started getting fat at five and she said, "HFG, I was tired when I had you. I was 45 when you were 5 and I was tired. Don't blame me for your weight. Don't hate me."

I don't hate my mom.

I just wish she'd never started telling me I needed to lose weight. I was never good enough because I was overweight. I was smart and pretty, but I wasn't thin. That's what I got and still get from her.

Whatever.