Sunday, December 20, 2009

The morning after... always different. The morning after a good, long day of proper restriction and exercise, that is. (One effect: Even after breakfast and mandatory coffee, my body is a bit weak and my mind is far from me, so please excuse the lack of flowery, elaborative language in today's entry...I apologize in advance)... You always feel so light, so free, so empty, so...WIN. Your stomach is small, the entire abdominal area a flat, smooth landscape between the steep slopes of clearly cut hipbones...Ah, it makes me wanna take a picture... and there's often this wonderful little butterfly flutter in the center of your chest as you roll out of bed and head for the scale. Anticipation, and the hint of certainty that it *HAS* to have gone down since yesterday, because you worked SO hard the day before... I compare that little flutter to the first ten seconds of blissful high after the painful shock of a *monster* line of coke...indescribable, and yet I'm trying. It feels a little like the weak-in-the-knees hormone rush commonly experienced in the presence of a very strong crush, but only the kind you had in middle school, when love was a possibility around every corner, every day... Or even like the flippy-floppy bubbly feeling in the pit of your belly as your roller coaster car reaches the peak of a forever-long incline of clickit-clickit-clickit-clickity-clickity-CLACK...a your heart prepares to explode...Yes, it's pretty intense. It doesn't always happen. But I like it when it does.

There's the weakness, which isn't so fun. I've replenished myself (somewhat) with oatmeal adorned with a tablespoon of Craisins, a cup of strong coffee with a teaspoon of sugar and a few packets of Sweet-N-Low, and half a banana. Oh, and three mini-M&Ms to keep me from going crazy. Chocolate is crucial, even in such a small amount. This way, I don't feel so deprived. (Although I've been working lately on an experiment of sorts...convincing myself into completely subscribing to the belief that the only REAL deprivation in all of this is depriving myself of being thin. :) If I can change my mind about food, and view it as merely sustenance instead of something that is desirable but forbidden, I think I'll be much happier overall. Happier AND thin. Win. So. Approximately 230 calories. I plan on sacrificing to the gods of the elliptical about 400 this morning, if I can get myself down there before the little one's cartoons are over for the morning. Then, as the day goes on, I plan an overall consumption of approximately 700 more calories, most of them from leafy vegetables, fruit, and lean protein. Very few carbs.

The scale, which we know from previous posts to be quite difficult to read and very possibly unreliable in its calibration, says 132 this morning. About 132. So hard to see those little lines. Meh. When it starts to dip under 130, I'll get excited. :)

Last night, over at the bf's friends' house, I had one glass of red wine (about 110), three Hershey's Kisses (about 18 each...can we say FAIL?), and two sugar cookies... I KNOW! Weak. The alcohol is always a bad idea. Makes you think it's maybe okay to break all *kinds* of rules...especially the kind your subconscious spends all day just longing to break. One glass of wine...sheesh...lightweight. I recall a time when even an entire bottle of wine wasn't enough to get my buzz on. Meh. No big deal. Better for me, I s'pose...and anyone buying me wine. ;)

The weakness feels like weights strapped to my arms, legs, neck, and consciousness. I look forward to it, now, just a bit. Reminds me of my strength and will. I like that. When I'm full, I fail. Easy as that.

I want nothing more than a huge bowl of steaming, peppered spinach...RIGHT now... Mmmm... 40 calories of pure perfection. Ha...I'm the healthiest disordered person I know. ;)

Be well.

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