I can't wait until my sister's birthday cake is gone. I had a piece this morning, and I hate myself for it. It tasted so good, but I'll bet thin tastes better. I'll never know if I keep being a fatass and shoving cake into my mouth. The only other food I've had is a cup of cooked mushrooms, and I've already burned the cake off on the treadmill, but still. I feel so guilty about it. Especially since tonight's dinner will be pasta. Ugh. Fat fat fat. I want to get back on the treadmill, but I'm so sore from yesterday and today. Maybe I'll wait an hour, see how I feel.
My dad's at work, and my sister's about to leave for church, and that is very very bad. When I'm alone in the house, I binge. And I binge. And then I binge some more. Worse case scenario, I purge and do my best to keep today's net calories under a thousand through excerise. Under a thousand is not good enough. I usually try to keep it under 800.
On the bright side, my legs are looking better. My thighs have always been the bane of my existence, but running has helped them so much. They're still huge, massive. I want to cry when I look at them. But I cannot deny that they are smaller than they were. I want to measure them, but I think I would break down if I did. I hate my body, everything about it. I wish I could just got away my flesh and fat and leave a pretty, pure skeleton.