Stuck: a long, depressing vent

Well, I am stuck.

I have been working my butt off (unfortunately not literally) walking, eating well, recording my food, drinking water, on and on. And for what? nothing. My knee is killing me and I weighed MORE for the past 3 days! WTHeck???

Now I know it is baby steps but seriously, I am restricting myself so I should be losing, not gaining. Or at least staying the same!

The scale is such a killer to me. My whole life.

I very clearly recall being weighed as a kid. It was humiliating. If my weight was up, I got less dessert or snacks than everyone else. So of course I stole it.

I remember going to the movies and Rose getting candy and me not. I was the fat kid.
I remember being bribed "lose 10 pounds and you get a Barbie horse". I tried and tried. I NEVER lost it, then it was lose 15 or 20.
How many times did I hear the "You have such a pretty face if you would just lose weight" or "Boys don't marry fat girls"?
I clearly remember having to figure up how many calories are in a box of TicTacs because I ate the whole thing and was recording all my food on a list on the refrigerator. (80 calories, BTW, before they changed the size of the box)
I have photos of myself at times that I KNOW I was put on a diet and I was not fat. Tall. Not thin, but not fat.
I remember my parents buying me Slim Fast. When I was 10 or so. TEN!
I recall being forced to take cabbage and tomato soup to lunch at school. Yeah! I could eat as much as I wanted! Unfortunately I hate cabbage (always have) and was humiliated when I had to explain my lunch to my friends.

I have entire albums of photos where I am never shown.
I hate *HATE* being touched because i know I feel squishy. Hate it.
Not too long ago my oldest daughter, for the first time ever, realized I was fat. "You know, mom, your butt is kind of wide." I wanted to die.

My whole darn life i have been totally ruled by the scale. When it is down, I feel good about myself. When it is up I hate myself. That isn't hyperbole. HATE myself and the mess I have made of myself.

I try to see the good side: my weight probably saved me from rapists. My weight stopped me from dating lots of losers (dated nobody instead).

But seriously....my weight stopped me from trying sports. It stopped me from dancing at dances; I went to all of them, hoping someone would ask me, but nobody ever did, so I just sat on the bleachers. . It kept me away from Homecoming and the Prom. It keeps me away from amusement parks and beaches and swimming pools (all things I love) and keeps me from chasing the girls at the park and running with them in the yard. The only 2 people I ever dated (except for DH) treated me like crap and I gladly put up with it because I felt like I should be grateful that they even considered looking at me twice.

And now I am stuck again. Not again....still. I am still stuck. I have been stuck for 25 years.