For a while now, I haven't really recognized myself in the mirror. I look in the mirror and I puzzle at this face. This face has cheeks as wide as oceans. This face has too many chins. This face, this face.
As bad as that is, pictures are even worse. Every photo feels like a betrayal, like reality let me think one thing, meanwhile going behind my back and being something else entirely. Every photo I see of myself feels like seeing a photo of a cheating boyfriend, embracing a lover. How could you do this to me?
Awhile ago, my favourite jeans stopped fitting. I left them in the laundry basket, pretending they still fit, pretending they were dirty and I just hadn't gotten around to washing them yet. It's been about a year, and I'm still pretending.
Yeah, losing weight is hard. But the alternative is fucking miserable.