In which poo is flung.

It finally fucking happened. I hit my plateau.  No weight change at all this week, despite working out more frequently and more vigorously than ever before.  I was ready to defenestrate the whole damn program this morning.  I'm working harder and eating less than everyone around me it seems sometimes, and threw a right tantrum about it. It took longer than I would have expected to calm the fuck down again and grudgingly remove my considerable arse from my pity pot and re-enter reality. I think I may be having some mild hormonal help in my most righteous fit-throwing, given my estrogen therapy. The road to irritability is considerably shorter these days. I apparently look like I'm close to tears a helluva lot more frequently, even when I don't realize it/feel like it.  I may not be able to tolerate this therapy, if that keeps up. I'll give it a full month, see how it all pans out. It could also just be the fact that I'M FUCKING HUNGRY.  Recently, I seem to have regressed close to my first week on this horrific journey, wanting to punch a lot of faces in only after eating my computer screen.  My resiliency is definitely reduced a bit.  I hope this is just a temporary response to my hormone therapy, because if it's not, I either need to change it or prepare for the inevitable murder trials I'll have to endure.