This afternoon, I was sitting on the edge of my bed, looking at my stationary bike with loathing and spite. I felt deceived, lied to.
When I got my bike, before I got it, I thought, “I’m going to lose so much weight!”
I spend hours on that damn bike every day. Want to know how much I’ve lost? Nothing.
Not one…damn…pound.
Because calories in versus calories out means absolutely shit when it comes to my body. Clearly, my fat did not get that memo.
I feel at my wit’s end. Before getting the bike, I just assumed I wasn’t losing because I ate too much and did too little. Now, I just don’t know what to do. It doesn’t seem to matter how much or little I eat, or how many hours I work out. That number just doesn’t budge. I can take diet pills and bottles of laxatives and throw up everything I eat and exercise until I vomit and pass out, and nothing works.
I just give up. I will be fat forever. I will die fat. I might as well just hurry it along.
a2eternity 
I don’t know you, and yet I feel like I wrote your post myself. I feel the exact same way about life right now. Having an ED sucks, but being fat sucks worse, doesn’t it? And it’s supposed to be so, so easy…calories in vs. calories out, just like you said. It’s simple math. And yet like yours, my body doesn’t give a damn about that. It’s just going to stay a grotesque mess of fat and skin until the day I die. I’m sorry you’re dealing with this because I know how much it hurts.
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I’ve often felt like this, oohhhh so many times I’ve felt like this! Try and focus on what makes you happy, and not the number on the scale – stress does strange things to your body.
Sending good vibes x
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