How many more times am I gonna say “no more messing around, today I’m going to start loosing fat” before I actually do it?

Last summer I lost 40 pounds, it was fucking great. But I’m a minor, and my dad wasn’t happy when he found out. With my binge ED, it felt like he used it against me. Making me feel like shit when I didn’t eat his food, it eventually got to me and I’ve Gone from 303 to 257 to 280. I feel so fucking depressed and miserable.

I’ve been trying to start again, get back into. Get that motivation I had. I always give up after a week.

Just got a job at a certain ice cream shop recently, so I’ve been getting free ice cream. So today I’m sitting here, just eating the newest flavor. And I feel like the fattest, saddest fuck here. And I think to myself “that’s it, no more bs. I’m going to try again.”

But it just hit me of how much I’ve been saying that. I’ll never succeed. I’ll never have the body I want. I’m going to be fat forever, and I’ll probably be 300 pounds by the time I graduate. I hate being fat. I hate it. I feel hopeless and alone.

I’m starting to feel suicidal again

Update/Edit?: just bought some frozen TV dinners that has vegetables in it with my mom. I was never forced to eat vegetables, so now I have to force myself. I think this is a good step.

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