I had a perfect week, where I trained every day, ate clean and had long nights’ sleep. As a result, I felt great and I started noticing great results. It was amazing how just one week had such a huge effect on my body.
The tricky thing is that it works both ways: for better and for good. And as quick as I saw my belly flat, with some hints of abs, I also saw it too quickly looking like a puffy pillow. It would be ok if I could only accept that my body changes (it retains water, it suffers with my period, I get fat too quickly, etc). Instead, I feel terribly, disappointed and it makes me quit gym as I come to the conclusion that I am working my ass off, I do things right but, at the end of the day, there are no results (at least not the expected ones) and in a blink of an eye everything changes.For worse.
On top of that, I had always had a hard relationship with food – a love/hate kind of thing, where it is the only thing to bring me comfort, sometimes, and, at the same time, it is the reason why I feel sorry and guilty.
So, in times like this when I feel self-conscious about my body, when all the clothes in my wardrobe are a wake up call for the walking chaos I am, all I can do is to sit on my couch and eat like the world is about to end and I have to really enjoy my last meal.
The inertia gets stronger and stronger, I feel continuously worse about not being able to do what I should to amend this problem, which makes me sadder and sadder and it gets really hard to get out of this snowball that keeps on rolling down the hill.