Unattainable

I’m just warning you off the bat that this post is full of negativity and frustration and maybe some swearing.  It’s your choice if you want to keep reading or not.

Mr. Cookie and I went in yesterday to have our metabolisms tested.  I don’t think I should have done it.  The knowledge I now have has only added to the growing frustration and dislike with my body.  It just doesn’t do what I want it to do.  It won’t go faster.  It won’t function well on fewer than 9 hours of sleep.  It hates losing weight and I have to be excessively strict to get it to do that. I’ve also been plagued with fears lately that it won’t even conceive right (not that I have to worry about that if I can’t drop 20 pounds).

The whole purpose for doing the test was to see if we’re getting the right amount of calories.  Turns out, Mr. Cookie’s metabolism is ridiculously fast and might explain why he often has irrepressible urges to cram tons of food in his face.  Apparently, people with fast metabolisms need more food.  He should get getting, on an average day, about 3000 calories.  I, on the other hand, should be getting just over 1,000.

So, basically, to lose weight and keep it coming off, I’m supposed to either eat less (yuck) or work out more (double yuck).  I also have to really track very fastidiously all that I’m eating and how much I’m exercising (super triple quadruple quintuple yuck).  I know that what I’ve been doing has been working, but a jump in the scale today and the knowledge that in the past I’ve had very significant plateaus after several successful weeks of weight loss that lead me to give up make me feel like it’s hopeless.

I just don’t get it.  I’m so angry and I want to throw myself and the ground and scream “it’s not fair!” like I might have as a small child.  I also don’t understand how, if my body is such a piece of shit (I like to compare it to the Apple IIGS we used to have with sad graphics and games that all consisted of using the arrow keys), I was totally able to maintain a great weight until I hit 20.  What happened to me that I just suddenly forgot how to eat well for my body?

Mr. Cookie says he will help me with this, but somehow the thought of him eating three times as much as me does nothing to reassure me.  I am irrational and emotional and convinced that I’m always going to be a lard ass.  So there.  Thank you if you read this far and please don’t think I’m about to jump off any bridges or anything.  I’m sure these feelings will pass.  I hope.

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