It had been a tough morning and the day never improved. Jenny had arrived late to work having spent too much time trying to get her hair just right.
“Damn it” she yelled as she slammed the hairdryer onto the vanity. “Why do I have to deal with this every single day? Why can’t I have hair that just does what I tell it?” Even before she had opened her eyes the day started going downhill. Jenny started thinking about her weight. What was the scale going to say this morning? Most of Jenny’s mornings started out this way. The worry over the scale, the hair that wouldn’t cooperate, the decision about what she could wear that would cover up her bulging tummy and thighs. After dragging herself out of bed, she walked stiffly into the bathroom, removed her nightgown and tried not to look at herself in the mirror. She didn’t want to see the roll around her midsection and the cellulite that had collected on her thighs. She took a deep inhale and stepped onto the scale. 165. “Shit. What is wrong with this thing? Why can’t I ever lose any weight.” Well Jenny of course you know why. You eat too much. I remind you of this every day. Ever since she and Paul had gotten married Jenny had been in a constant battle with her weight. When she was in high school she was slim, never thinking about what she ate, and could wear all the stylish clothes. Now she just felt fat. She would go on diets, but they would consistently last until her willpower wore off which was generally around week two. Sometimes they would last longer. There were times when she wouldn’t even make it home from work. Those diets always ended with a quart of ice cream. Occasionally, when she was feeling in control, Jenny would have a frozen diet dinner or she’d stop at the grocery store and grab a prepared diet meal. She was always hungry. Except for those evenings when dinner was pizza followed by a container of ice cream. The battle with the scale was never ending and this morning was no different. As she stood in front of her closet inspecting her options, Jenny’s frustration started to peak. “If I could lose 35 lbs, then I would actually feel good wearing some of these clothes.” You’d look great Jenny. Remember when you were in high school? Wow those were the days. She reached for her black Flax linen pants with the elastic waist. Everything else was either too tight or didn’t land properly on her 5’6” frame. “I look like a frump,” she said as she gave herself the once over glaring at her thighs. “There isn’t one piece of clothing in this closet that actually looks good on me.” She burst into tears. Each morning was the same – she’d beat herself up leaving no body part unscathed by her disapproval. You tell it Jenny, all this weight gain is ridiculous. Jenny made her way downstairs where the next battle loomed – the one over breakfast. She still had to make her “you failed the scale” lunch. Life was absolute torture and there was nothing she could do about it. She hated her life and everything about it. “Why was life so damn cruel,” she wondered? She made a mental note to contact the therapist whose phone number she had been carrying around in her wallet for the past year. *
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