I remember a time when I actually liked my body. It was 20 lbs ago. I can honestly say I think I was happier when I was a fat 145lbs. I also remember a time when I was happy and confident. It's a weird trade off. Like someone where in the background I was a happy person who didn't mind being a little heavy. I thought I was pretty, and I thought I was smart, and I thought I was worthy of that happiness.
Something happened somewhere along the road and I can honestly say most days I wake up ready to cry about my life. I hate my life, who I am, and what I'm doing. I get up early in the wee-hours to shower, dress and hurry off to school. Where I do a crap job teaching. There are good days, where I think I've done a good job and had a good day with the children. Some days I walk away thinking I made a difference. But then I also feel like I've wasted their time and talked about myself. I think that they are going to flunk out of college because of the waste of time they have.
It's probably the weather. Winter rages on, and on, and on. Like a nightmare that none of us can wake up from there's a snowstorm every two days. And today it was terribly cold, 19 degrees! Days like this you know there is a God and he's a mean old man living in Florida laughing at those of us stuck in Massachusetts.
I just hope I can hit the weight I want to be, so I can focus on getting happy again.