I lost 9 pounds this week, 15 in two weeks, I've lost more than a stone in two weeks. I was happy, really happy this morning when I got on the scale and saw 9 pounds lost after I was freaking out so much last night wondering if I had lost enough since I lost so last week.
I had a hard night because I'm supposed to have Sundays as a "cheat day" because I have Pizza. But I make the Pizza at home and it ends up at only about 600 calories. But I ended up eating nothing else and not even wanting to eat the Pizza. I didn't see it as my favourite food anymore. I saw it as 600 calories, I saw it as fat and I just cried. I was ashamed of myself that I wanted it, that I was hungry and I shouldn't be.
Every week I eat less and less. I've gone from 900 calories a day to 600 calories a day in a week. I don't want to eat anymore, I hardly get hungry anymore as it is and am pretty much now forced to eat by Alistair. I think he's worried about me. When I told him I didn't want to make Pizza last night and that I wasn't hungry that he thinks that I should slow down on my weight loss. He said, "I should lose 2 pounds a week, to slow down and that I have time and I don't need to lose it all at once. He'd rather me be heavier when we get together but healthy instead of thinner and sick. The only reason he wants me to lose weight is so I can spend a long healthy life with me and my current weight is only leading me to an early death that would devastate him."
I agree but... I just want to be thin.
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