So here’s the thing

I don’t want to become one of “those girls,” who writes only about weight loss, and talks unendingly of every mundane bite of food they put into their bodies.  “Today, I had half a grapefruit for breakfast.  I caressed it gently before carefully digging into its soft, pink flesh with a spoon.  For lunch, I had 3 lettuce leaves.  I am such a pig. Look at my weight loss ticker.”

That drives me nuts.  It’s boring.

BUT, at the same time, I need to rant.

I had some expectations when I started this new medication and new “lifestyle,” which is what we call life-long, endless diets.  First, I expected to lose weight.  I expected to start sleeping better.  I expected to start feeling better.  I expected to start looking better.

Three months in, and none of this is really happening.  Well, I am sleeping a bit better, at least, I am sleeping more, but I still wake up feeling as if I have not slept at all.  It still takes me ages to fall asleep, but at least I’m only waking up once in the night instead of the 3-4 times it was before.  So when it takes me 45 minutes to an hour to fall asleep, I am only losing an hour and not three.

The weight loss has happened, but in a small, pathetic way.  Less than 10lbs in 3 months, are you serious?  Fat clings to me with a desperation that one usually only sees in adolescent girls clinging to their first boyfriend.  Some people give up drinking soda and lose 10lbs just from that.  Nope, not me.  I gave up soda (in 2001), then I gave up diet soda (for the most part; I need caffeine from somewhere and I hate warm drinks), and nothing.  I gave up most things containing refined flour.  If I eat bread, it’s whole grain.  Whole grain pasta, too. When I bake, I bake with whole grain flour.  I cut out most baked goods, most sweets, and red meat.  I added more fruits and vegetables.  Nothing.  Nothing.  Oh, and I added 30 minutes of intense cardio daily.  NOTHING.

Everyone always says, “a good diet and exercise can help with depression!”  Well, I crawled out from the cave in which I’ve been skulking and I’ve forced myself to eat these healthy fucking foods that I hate, and I’ve forced myself to exercise, even though it fills me with resentment and anger.  I’ve forced myself to do these things because I am depressed and nothing comes easily, but I’ve managed to fucking do it, and you know what?  Still depressed.  I still think about how pointless and pathetic my life is, I still hurt myself, I still think about suicide daily.  I think three months is long enough to expect some change. 

Granted, I do feel a bit better immediately after exercising.  Relaxed, mostly.  Like the energy I usually spent tying myself in knots was instead used to exercise, leaving me momentarily untied.  That effect fades in 1-2 hours.  I think it’s more or less the same endorphin rush that I get from self-harm, except harder to achieve and a bit longer lasting.

As for looking better, that’s just funny.  I’m still blobby and fat, and my skin is still terrible and my hair is still fugly.  I’m not even entirely sure why I thought something might change.  Maybe because people who embrace “lifestyle changes” are supposed to be blonde and bouncy and vegan, and find time to jog with the dog on the beach and read the classics and wear yoga pants in public and still get hit on by cute guys, even when they’re sweaty and covered in dog fur.

Maybe that.

Anyway, it seems like no matter what I do, I’m always going to be fat, unfortunate looking, and depressed.  It’s really hard to stay motivated in the face of that, but I’m really good at forcing myself to do pointless things.  I mean, I’m a college graduate, after all.  So I’ll continue to exercise, and avoid processed carbohydrates, and eat those fucking vegetables. 

I fucking hate vegetables.