Still going (strong?)...

It's 3:36 PM.

I still have not eaten.

Not a single bite of food has passed my lips. Coffee and water. No sugar. No milk, no cream, no nothing.

I have been tested, and I will continue to be tested.

In fact, my daughter sits right next to me, lapping away at an ice cream cone covered in nuts and dipped in chocolate. Ha, this is great. I'm going to take a picture.

There. I'll post it in a sec.

Eggs benedict and muffins this morning. Not for me.

Cheddar baked hashbrowns with a crispy corn flake topping, dripping in melted cheese. Church's fried chicken. Mashed potatoes. Chocolate truffles and yogurt covered pretzels. Ice cream cone. Twizzlers candy and Reese's peanut butter cups (my absolute favorite)... All of these things have been offered to me.

I have politely refused every single one of them.

I'll sit here and sip my coffee, thank you. My goosebumps and jitters are proof of my dedication to this fast.

I know it hasn't been that long. I won't compare myself to anyone else, because this is my first fast. I have never been able to do it before, and I'm doing it now.

Thin is worth it.

Of course, if we wanted to get technical, we could get into the fact that, deep in the back of my mind, I know that complete starvation is not the quickest, most effective way to lose fat. I know this. Starvation mode is the enemy. The next few meals I eat will need to be entirely fat free, sugar free, if possible, so as not to provide my body with ANYthing it can turn into fat. It will try. It will receive the food and think, "The famine is over! Yes! BUT...just in case she starts starving again, let's go ahead and put all of THIS food aside (in the form of stored fat, of course) to use as energy later." Yes, I just personified my metabolism and gave it a voice. Deal. :P

I realize that I will probably weigh a pound less tomorrow, mostly due to fluid loss and the work of my good friend, Ex-Lax. This fast isn't about weight loss. It's about control. Control over self. Will power in the face of absolute temptation, through hunger, fatigue, and pain, both mental and physical. When I get through this I will be stronger than I was yesterday. That is what this fast is about.

My first major hunger pains have just begun. Stomach acid is churning up into my chest, burning, screaming at me to eat, just eat SOMEthing, ANYthing. I won't. I am stronger than that, stronger than my body's whims and demands.

The two-day binge that ended last night has left its mark. The sharp hipbones I had uncovered with the last ten pounds lost are obviously still visible, but not nearly as angular and pronounced as they were a week ago. I can't stand to gain. I didn't even weigh myself, I won't. Not until I've had a chance to undo the damage I've done. Funny, how we do this to ourselves. It's as if I live for self-destruction during the binge days, just so that I'll have something to fix when the weight comes back on. How sick and twisted can I get, here?

The friend's house in which I now sit is indeed filled with delicious foods, but I have survived the dinner and dessert and am now content to sit here in my pain, happy with my self-restraint. Yes. Twisted, indeed. There's a woman here a few years older than myself who happens to have suffered from bulimia in the past, but has come out on the other side to live a happy and healthy life. She still suffers the consequences, of course: issues with her stomach and throat and teeth, but she's happy with her recovered self. She's slightly chunky, I guess, maybe what America would consider average. I watched her eat today, happy, enjoying every savory bite of the lunch she had prepared, and I looked down at my red bracelet, wondering where I'll be after ten years of my ED. She's happy. She's a mother. She eats, and doesn't worry about it. Huh.

I've probably written too much. What can I say? Distraction is the key, I think, to a successful fast, especially during these, the difficult afternoon hours.

Thanks for reading, as always. <3