Another day, another OB/GYN appointment that leaves me feeling like a fat fucking failure.
I gained six pounds in three weeks on a 2,200 calorie, low-carb, low-sugar diet.
Such a thing is, apparently, impossible. But it can't be that impossible, because I did it. My body is somehow making something out of nothing.
The next thing to go is fat. I am now on a low-carb, low-sugar, low-fat diet. Basically? I am not allowed to be in the same room as food that tastes good. I might as well start eating all of these cardboard moving boxes we've got hanging around. Hell, you know what? I might as well just stop eating altogether, because my body doesn't need things like calories and carbohydrates and all that. It just makes fat all on its own! Maybe, if I took away everything it was making fat out of, I'd stop gaining two pounds a fucking week, except my body is making fat out of fucking air and water.
I was doing really well for a little bit, and then I let myself have some cookies and chocolate. My husband and I had chocolate fondue for Valentine's Day, and now I'm kicking myself because it probably made me gain three pounds. I am just simply not meant to fucking enjoy eating anything, apparently.
I'm about ready to tell my OB/GYN that she can shove it. I want some fucking potatoes and candy and I'm pretty sure I will die if I stop eating cheeseburgers. I am not cut out for carrots and lettuce. I fucking hate vegetables. I am reaching the end of my goddamn rope with this food thing.
Can I somehow get my insurance to cover liposuction as reconstructive surgery? Because I have gained an obscene amount of poundage while actively trying to not gain any weight at all, and my body is ruined. Completely and totally ruined. I'll need a boob job and some laser peels for the scar tissue as well, okay, Medical Mutual? Just put everything back the way it was...