Let's see if I can record this without breaking.

171.8-I think is what the scale at the doctor's said. I know it said 171. That alone makes me want to break.
All of my pants that used to fit perfectly are too tight.
All of my thoughts that went away are coming back. It's so hard to not weigh myself everytime I go pee.
Remember that girl that was like "I'm gonna be 114 before I'm a junior in high school"?
Then she was like "NO! I'm gonna be healthy and love myself!"
Now she's fat and wishing that she had kept up with it.
She thinks about purging.
She can't eat without having stomach pains and nausea (I dunno if it's psychological or physical).
I'm not saying that starving myself made things great. I'm saying that with this mentality I'm going to hate myself even worse if I allow the pounds to add on.
This post is not saying that eating disorders make you happy. They make hell real.
I'm also thinking that my bi-polar crap is getting worse. Each and every year seems to get harder to stay sane.
The self-hatred screams for an outlet, but my girlfriend gets so upset with all of the outlets that make me feel even slightly better.
I honestly cried when I saw how much stuff didn't fit one day.
I've cried over gaining weight and just because I felt ugly.
I never used to do that.

I've gained muscle so I look better than I did in the seventh grade when I was first this weight. Only that knowledge doesn't make me feel better. Being so heavy makes me so upset. I just don't want to eat anymore. It'd be easy. Everyone says crap like "You're so pretty" but I know I'm not. I need make up, hair done, clothes fitting just so to feel like they may be telling the truth. I doubt that they really mean it.
I'm gonna go workout so that I may not be a chunk ball for ASTL in April.