****sigh****

Still fat. Getting fatter. Still not caring enough to deal with it. At least the cravings have decreased. My appetite is simply bigger than it's ever been. But I seem to have plateaued. My stomach muscles still hurt. My back is still killing me. And my moods are much more moderated.

And all I want for Christmas is a job. Even . . . . .*sigh*. . . . . a job with Animal Control Services (I interviewed today). Any job is necessary at this point. We have to survive.

Moderated moods or not, I'm already fighting serious depression over this job (and I haven't even gotten it yet). It pays amazingly well, but requires a lot of commitment, and I know I'm going to hate it.

I might as well resign myself to never being happy. I peaked in college, and even that wasn't so great. I don't know what it takes to feel fullfilled, but after so many years I still can't find it.