My boyfriend's trying to lose 100lbs. Last week he'd lost a total of 47, and this week he was back up by 9lbs. He came to me all upset and wanting sympathy this morning, but I was basically like, "Well, what did you think was going to happen when you half-assed your diet (having a drink every night doesn't fit into your 10g/carbs/day plan, dude; neither does breaded chicken) and only got 20 minutes of cardio a day (and that's riding his bike two miles or so; come on)?"
I feel bad, but he's been yo-yoing on the same ten pounds for about three months now, and he even admitted that he's kind of afraid to go past the halfway point because (and this is my fault, but I had no way of predicting he'd be a weirdo about it) we'd planned on going shopping when he lost 50lbs and get some new outfits, and he's afraid we'll do that and then he'll gain the weight back.
When he gets home from his bike ride I'll apologize (he talked to me pre-coffee), but I'm frustrated. I can't do this for him (which is my impulse when I'm annoyed at how someone around me is doing something), and I've never had the same kind of struggle he's going through before (so I feel like I'm being less sympathetic than I should be). I know that it's hard, and I know that he'll feel better about himself once he loses this weight.
I'm frustrated because I never cared that he was fat; I really didn't, but I was so proud of him for losing the weight because it's something he wanted to do and it's difficult and it was making him happy. Now that he's kind of bailing on it, I realized I DO care that he keeps going with it now, because he wants it and he feels better about himself this way, and he's said he'd be disappointed in himself if he bailed on it. And he feels better physically, too; his back pain and knee pain were lessening (they came back this week too; which I told him wasn't a good sign).
I feel like such a B.