Soooo this first part of my day went wonderfully. Then when hubby's older brothers came over to swim in our pool (one family unit is like the Dursley's. I kid you not.)and then started stuffing their faces like pigs with copious amounts of food and it all went down hill from there.
Hubby and I even ended up having a stupid argument. Not about his family members I assure you.
I barely ate today. I think I barely went over cal limit if at all. And even though I'm hungry I'm too depressed to even want to eat. And then I keep remembering hubby's brother stuffing his fat ugly face ( this man asked if anybody else felt an earthquake while I was walking through the room when I'm the only friggin one in the house who walks lightly. I felt so fat and disgusting that I don't think I ate that day. Plus everytime he sees me he stares like he's going to eat me. Or worse. And he insults me withthe same bull every single time -"Hey what's that thing hanging out of your nose?" Um a nose-ring dumbarse. =/)
Anyways. I ended up writing a fanfiction where Harry is waiting for Fenrir to come and kill his fat piggy family. And the Werewolf does. And I felt marginally better.
I'm supposed to still be thrilled! I lost weight! But instead I'm reminded of all the shite I still haven't accomplished. And I'm faced with thee reality of my failure. I hope hubby doesn't stay mad much longer. I was in the right. For once. :/ Still doesn't make me feel better about it though.
-the Silent Observer-
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