I don't really want to talk about my weight. I'm sick of it. I'm sick of working on it, thinking about it, and dealing with it.
I wish I could wake up tomorrow and have gastric bypass surgery.
I have a few friends that have had it and they all look great.
They are all living life.
I am. Sort of.
I did get another job. Very part-time. I guess I should be happy. I don't know what I want, which doesn't help. This gives me the flexibility to figure that out while still providing a bit of cash to the flow, I suppose.
I'm semi-excited. All in all it's probably the best. I'm so blessed in that area, yet I seem to snub my nose at it. I've been off for a bit and it's been nice. It wasn't really enough time, though. I was hoping to leave town, visit family, do some things I've been wanting to do for a while. It's not going to happen though. New job starts. Even if it's part-time, it's a new job, and it's exhausting. But I did get to a good point last year with my old job where I was able to find some time for me, get a routine, and pay more attention to taking care of myself.
Right now I'm just trying to hit 8000 steps on my tracker. That's about it. My weight remains a dismal 283. Last year this time I was 30 pounds lighter. I just need to have the scale start winding back that way. 10 pounds I'd feel better. Ten stinking pounds.
It's amazing how hard that is!