I’m so tired. The past few nights I’ve been staying up late again (except for last night) and it’s catching up with me with a vengeance. All day yesterday I refused to nap, and at around 6pm I was falling asleep every time I sat down. I actually got to get in bed early, at 11pm. Well, that’s early for me lately. I just have so much crap to do all the time. Now I’m here falling asleep again. I can’t nap–even though I really want to–or else this cycle will just continue. Blah.
I watched the finale of The Biggest Loser on NBC last night. I feel so inspired–as corny as that may sound–by that show. I was looking through the before and after pics and Kelly, Lisa, and Andrea look so nice and healthy now. I want to look nice and healthy too. I’m hating how weight is becoming a really big issue with me. I’ve always had bad self-esteem, but I think as I get older, it gets worse. I’m not like the people who went on the biggest loser–how most were overweight even as children. In fact, I was always too skinny, with no butt, with huge boobs for my body frame and height and I just felt awkward all the time. Now, I seem to have “filled out” more, but I’ve filled out more than I’d like. I’m not even overweight yet (and God I don’t want to be), but I’m close. I weigh 123 right now (I just weighed myself at Maggie’s on Friday night), and my BMI for my height and weight says I’m close to being overweight. I’m like 2 lbs. away. I’m only 4’11” tall…I should weigh from 95-100lbs. My goal is 105. I just want to get back in shape. But I’d like some support from my family. I’m tired of people rolling their eyes when I say I want to start eating better and exercising. I want support from Mario. Just this morning, after he ate breakfast, he came and sat on the computer. I’d been looking through The Biggest Loser before and after pics and I tell him about Kelly–who had biggish breasts and then lost a lot of weight there. I tell him I want to do that too. If I can lose “breast” without having to be cut up to have a reduction, then better for me. I ask him, since he used to be a fitness buff, what I should do to work-out my chest and he says, “I’ve already told you a thousand times before. I’m not repeating myself.” I tell him, “Well, I obviously forgot, which is why I’m asking you.” He just gets this attitude and I tell him to go screw himself. We’d been watching a movie, Harold and Kumar Go to Whitecastle to be exact, and there’s this scrawny blonde woman with almost non-existant boobs and he was um, aroused. I was greatly offended, for I’m not scrawny, blonde or flat-chested. I’m quite the opposite. I threw that in his face this morning–how he can be turned on by flat-chested skinny blondes (no offense to all you flat-chested skinny blondes out there–you bastards), yet I can’t talk about having a flat chest or highlighting my hair because he gets all defensive and raves about how “I’m beautiful the way I am and I don’t have to change anything”. Um, yeah, SURE. Last time I believe that. And to think I made him lasagna for lunch. That asshole .
I’m tired of feeling unattractive. I’m tired of wondering if my husband is checking out the skinny bitches. (And believe me, there’s plenty of skinny bitches where he works…a lot of the men where Mario works have wives, and a girlfriend they met there on the side.) I won’t let my depression get worse by feeling like shit about myself. I’m going to do this. I’m going to get back in shape. I need to buy rollerblades for myself and the kids. We have a long-ass drive way. It would be so awesome to blade again. I’M GOING TO DO THIS!