I freakin' hate this...

So the scale was as unfriendly of an experience as I expected. In one week I put on 2 pounds. I can't lose 2lbs in one week, but just a little distraction, and two pounds come right on. It's not like I did a complete pig out, either.

The knowledge of how hard I have to work for the Rest of My Life is daunting. The complete focus on what I'm eating is irritating. I hate to constantly keep track of what I'm eating. I don't want to take an hour of my day everyday to work out. There are other things I would rather be doing.

I remember those blissful days where I ate what I wanted and didn't worry about my physical activity. Ignorance is bliss.

So I'm feeling very sorry for myself. I'm sore (I'm back to lifting weights, and starting is one of the most uncomfortable times... every muscle is screaming in pain... which is why I should never stop doing it!) I'm disappointed and I'm irritated and I'm tired. Best solution? Get my fat ass on the treadmill and walk.