Week Seven, Day One

Man, it's not even 7am and this morning has already been a rollercoaster. I (of course) did not sleep well last night and when 5am rolled around this morning, I did not want to get up. At all. Like flailing my arms and crying into the pillow did not want to get up. 

Guess what I did? Got up.

Had pre-workout. By the time I got to the gym, I was feeling okay. Not very many people there, which always makes me happy. 

Pre-workout starts kicking in about 2 minutes after I get on the elliptical. I'm feeling good. My playlist is hitting all the right songs. I even make up my own version of C25k for the elliptical. Three minutes of "pushing really hard," and then two minutes of "mild pushing" and repeat. I pushed myself today. I was dripping sweat. My shirt kept drifting to the side so half of my stupid sports bra showed. My shoes came untied. But I didn't budge. No, I was going to meet my calorie goal come hell or high water.

So when my time was up and my goal was met. I was happy. Proud. 

And then I got home and stepped on the scale. 

Not only did I NOT lose weight - I gained two pounds! 

And this is the part where I want to tell you that I'm okay... that it'll be fine and I'll work harder. But this is where I'm going to tell the truth. It's days like this that make me want to say fuck it. Because why? Why am I busting my ass, taking time away from the things I *really* want to be doing to work out when I see zero results? Okay, I know that's not true. I know that I'm getting healthy. I know that my heart and stress and all that stupid shit is getting some good out of me working out. But it kills me to be working this hard and not see any outward changes. I look in the mirror and still see my double chin. My flabby stomach. I still see a number on the scale that disgusts me. It's equivalent to writing 100,000 words and then just throwing them all away. Like, sure, maybe it did me good to write them, but what was the point if it's not going to be used? What good did those words REALLY do me? 

So yes, I should be proud of myself. I should be giving myself credit for sticking with this for seven weeks, instead, all I feel is disappointed with myself.