I talk a great game. I can tell you all day long that you’re not the number on the scale (and you’re not). That no matter what the scale says, if you went out and worked your ass  off, you’ve made progress.  (and you have). But, when I step on the scale and see that number and it hasn’t changed in two weeks– despite 2 hour a day workout sessions and a strict 1600 calorie limit– I still get discouraged. I still feel like nothing is ever going to change and nothing I do matters. I see that  number on the scale and I want to throw my sneakers in frustration, I want to grab a bag of Oreo’s and just eat them until it stops hurting.  I want to go and hug my Mom or any one and have them tell me that it’s okay.


But I can’t. So I get dressed, wipe the tears away, lace up my shoes and head out again, to look for myself.




2 thoughts on “Frustration

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