I've tried to make a deal with myself that there's no point in checking the scale if it's not going to give you an accurate number and checking it every morning and night isn't going to make my mood any better so until the scale is fixed or I have a reliable scale I won't check it...
I can't help but know I'm going to break my own rule.
Yesterday was nice. I read through Unbearable Lightness by Portia de Rossi. I was envious of her weight loss journey and found myself in her shoes while she was struggling as well. What made me most upset was that she hit 89 pounds in just 8 months and I've been struggling with my eating disorder for some time now. This book has made me decide I'm a fake and a loser and a failure.
Sure I can read a whole book in less than a day but I'm still a failure and because I'm a failure I have to punish myself.

I called into work today, mainly because, I just didn't feel like going. I barely slept last night even though my body seems like it's telling me different now. It's so weird how much my body can take I'm starting to notice.
Like... take yesterday for example. I was doing about 3.4 MPH on the treadmill for 45 minutes after eating only two diet pills, a little bit of coffee, and a bagel that I was force fed. Of course I couldn't take my eyes away from the book which is why I stayed on for so long, but, that's besides the point.

I feel fat. I feel so fucking fat. I cried yesterday morning because I was so fat and couldn't give Mikey any sex because my body has become a disgusting piece of shit. I decided against bingeing and purging because it's not helping my weight loss and with my goals all marked out for the year I can't screw this up... you can't screw this up Kristen!
I'm scared I'm going to screw this up.

On a lighter note the school semester is about to start this upcoming Tuesday. One of my classes already got cancelled and luckily I get my e-mails forwarded to me because apparently I was switched to a different section of this class. Instead of Monday and Wednesday night classes I'll have Monday and Tuesday night classes, working on Wednesdays.
Is it fucked up that I'm only looking forward to the fact that the way my schedule was made I won't be able to eat things like breakfast and barely get to stomach down dinner most nights? Is it fucked up that I'm only looking forward to this upcoming semester because the stress of 18 credits plus working two nights for 3 hours a week and having to finish 45 field experience hours is doing to break me? Is it fucked up that Mikey's schedule and my schedule are off by minutes just so I can get an extra hour and 15 minutes of not being asked "wanna get some food?"

I think I need to do an hour of walking today on the treadmill. I want to feel the burn but I can't at all. I don't really know what this means. Did I not burn any muscle? Did I not create any muscle? Did I not lose any weight? I didn't eat much yesterday, I think my net caloric intake clocked in under 700. I was trying to aim for an 800 limit so... yay... I win? Not that I can't ever do that but it seems like lately I've been trying to demolish whatever self-esteem (or weight loss plans I had).

I don't have much to do right now. It's 8:30 in the morning and I'm writing in my blog, oh ah, hipster. I need to get a life or do something phenomenal. I would write all the books I've been talking about but I don't know how to start them. I'll probably attempt to do my homework or continue reading my Stephen King book. I set a goal of reading 25 books this year and I plan on keeping it... just as my weight loss goals. I don't feel like I need any punishment if these goals for whatever reason don't occur.... because, I torture myself enough.