230 lbs. it is my current barrier. i can't break it. every morning, no matter how many miles i run, i seem to weigh this same amount. it has been EIGHT FUCKING MONTHS, and here i am at 230. my body is fighting me every step of the way. i am so tired of sleepeating. so tired of the mental charades that i cannot master. this is the one part of my life i've managed to be somewhat positive about. i've devoted all my energy towards it because logic dictates that i can succeed here, as long as i put in enough willpower and effort. but like everything in life, i am being proven otherwise. this is the one aspect of my life i feel like *i* can control. i can't predict what my useless ex is going to do. i can't deal with the randomness of relationships right now. i can barely maintain order in the swirling vortex of day-to-day parenthood. and so that makes this failure all the worse. just this *one* thing in life, i want to fix. and i'm failing. and what's really sad is in the grand scheme of things, with my frame, all i really need to lose is 10-20 lbs. but i can't. in the most ignorant, charlatan terms available, i have a demon inside me, always hungry, always consuming and never rewarding, placing me into a transcendental state of acquiescent compliance. i try to eat protein and run. i try to keep healthy food in the house. healthy snacks. i walk to work. take the stairs. i haven't had alcohol in six months. i keep no soft drinks in the house. i drink water only. none of it matters. i could eat a sole diet of rice cakes and my body would find a way to turn it into lethargy.
I MUST CONQUER MYSELF.
or die trying.
