Pity Party

WARNING: I'm in a foul mood and feeling pretty sorry for myself right now so if you're happy and having a fantastic day, feel free to go look at something else :)

It's the first Monday of summer vacation and Brian's home sick from work so instead of sleeping in (like a normal person would have) I got up at 7am (okay, 7:05) and went to the gym where I beat the crap out of myself for over an hour.  Chances are pretty good that I'll do the same thing the rest of this week.  I just wish it was making a difference.  I'm so tired of being fat and having no self-esteem to speak of that I can't hardly stand it.  I'm trying so hard, why isn't it making a difference?  Why can my neighbor who lost 30 pounds on the HCG diet (I've lost 40 the old-fashioned way) bring me a skirt that's "much too big" for her assuming that it will fit me?  I don't want to be the "fat friend" anymore.  I want to be the "skinny friend who runs marathons".  You know?