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I got on the scale last Wednesday. I knew I had put on a little weight. My Clothes were fitting a little tighter again, but nothing major and I wasn't having to wear my old clothes or anything.

Fifteen Fucking Pounds.

Fifteen motherfucking pounds. Not enough water, too much soda, too much fast food and not enough exercise. God, I hate it. I hate it!!

If you've come across this blog and are fat, why are you fat? Hmm? Why? I'll tell you what. I'll go first.

I'm fat because I have some sick need to make myself miserable. I understand this now. I'm not sure why I need to make myself miserable, but I know that's what it is. I have to have something to blame, something other than myself, for any unhappiness in my life.

That's a shitty reason to be fat. That's a selfish, over-indulgent reason to be fat.

It's bullshit.

I talked a couple of posts ago about accountability. Looks like I'm accountable only to myself again. Dad has surgery coming up and didn't want to enter into anything right away. I was disappointed and I worry about him a great deal, but these fifteen pounds are mine and mine alone now. I suppose they always were though, huh?

God, enough of this.



This post first appeared on Fat Girl Goes Bye-Bye, please read the originial post: here

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