Hating Myself

I don't know why I decided to do this, but I did a very stupid thing. After folding all of my laundry, I decided it was time to purge my wardrobe of all the clothes I don't fit in anymore since I got fat. I didn't realize how much my body has changed until I ended up with 80% of my wardrobe in trash bags. I grew out of so many things that I have a full drawer that is empty now. A full drawer. Empty.

I sat on the edge of the bed and cried. I'm still crying. I'm crying over how much I hate my body, how I am afraid to step on the scale or look at myself in the mirror. I'm crying over the stretch marks that keep showing up, reminding me of my failure. I'm crying over how much I hate going out anymore because I feel like everyone is looking at me, judging me.

I used to like getting dressed up and going out with my friends. Now I hide away in sweatpants and loose fitting clothes, trying to hide every part of me that I hate. Every time I eat, I feel guilty. Everything I put in my mouth makes me detest myself even more.

I'm ready to change. Something drastic needs to happen. I am going to put this whole getting pregnant thing on hold, and I am going to push myself to get it together. That might mean I have to watch everyone get their baby before I do...but whatever. I can't go on like this. I want my clothes back. I want my life back.

 I want to love myself again.