So last night we had a chat about relationship stuff and how mental illness shit is affecting it. And then I drank three glasses of wine. All I have to say this morning is fuck Prozac.
Also I try to not post too much about numbers on this blog, but I’ve officially lost 30 pounds since the end of May. WOOOOOOOO fuck.
Look at how happy I look! Costa-Rican-drunk-off-my-ass-at-the-beach-and-trying-to-get-with-a-girl-style. #quedicha
Wow I am bad at this. Oh well. A for effort. I am disgusting but fuck you because I have been feeling so damn good lately. Like, I actually feel pretty right now, despite being in my running clothes with matted down sweat. SO TAKE THAT, EATING DISORDER. Also, my roommate is MIA. This pleases me.
Okay. This just feels dumb now. On a possibly positive note, I’m getting discharged from my IOP group today. On a less positive note, I know I’m not going to be sticking with the meal plan at all, as I haven’t done so in the past week. Whoop-de-doo on my part I officially can’t do anything.
I’m about to go on my run. Gon’ get me some muscles. LOL I’m fat but fuck you.