Newest obsession

Guess what I’ve started doing again! Exercising. I found the gym at my complex and it’s open 24 hours a day. So I walk up to it, work out all by my self, and then walk back to my flat. One wall is a mirror and the machines face that direction. So while I’m working out I scrutinize every part of my body. It keeps me going because I don’t want to look like this anymore. 

I’ve worked up to short bursts of jogging on the treadmill. Sadly, all the muscle tone I had at this time last year, 35 pounds I could do on most weight machines, is gone. I struggle to lift the bars with no pin in place, that’s 5-10 pounds max. I guess we’ve reached the “muscle wasting” stage. I’ve been doing various exercises in my room at night, as well as at work. Mostly squats, lunges, calf raises, leg lifts, and various ballet warm ups can be done while at work. I also try to fidget when I’m sitting. But at night I add crunches, sit ups, and stretching. I’m trying to get to an hour of exercise every day. I figure with all the bursts of workouts I do during the day, I must be hitting that target. Hopefully this will finally get those numbers to drop again. 

All I can see are my flabby thighs, sagging ass, and fat stomach. I wish it were socially acceptable to ask a woman what size clothing she wears. I keep looking at people and I’m not sure if I’m smaller than them or if I’m bigger. The tag on my clothing says size 6 or Medium, but I can’t see myself that small.  I think if I had something tangible to compare myself to, such as knowing the dress size of a woman of my height. 

My roommate saw me eating some asparagus last night and she said “I’m worried that you’re eating” my first thought was, “me too.” She knows, she figured it out. She’s mentioned it to my parents. She mentioned it to me at her birthday dinner. I say that I want someone to care, enough to get me help; but knowing that she tried made me more secretive about my habits, more defensive, and rather sad because no one believed her. If I really wanted help, wouldn’t I be happy that she tried? Do I really not want help? Or am I just not sick enough to need help?  

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