Family breakfasts.
fml.
At least my coffee was calorie-free.
Fuck.
Caramel. Nuts. Bread. Sugar.
Disgusting, right? Delicious and evil and tempting and FATTENING.
*sigh...* I don't even have the energy to be as passionately upset about this as I should/could be.
I've decided to do it again. I will abstain from weighing myself for three days. Today is the first day. I won't like what I see, so I'd rather not ruin my day(s) until I have the chance to fix this.
I'm so dragged down lately that getting up on that shoddy elliptical machine is harder than usual...God, I can't wait to get back to my normal gym! Despite the less than ideal equipment here, I *have* to make some cardio happen today. Gotta. No choice.
So I don't know if I can accurately convey the ideas flitting about my jumbled head at the moment (much distraction over here... Saturday morning cartoons, after all, and the little one is adamant about her Phineas and Ferb fix...Gods bless the Disney Channel), but I'll try.
Every day I give in and binge (or even eat more than I should) feels like a major failure. With this feeling of failure comes the sneaking whisper: "Give up. Just give in. Eat. Be happy, just like EVERYone else."
Of course, I'll never believe that I can be like everyone else. I know better by now.
But still. What I'm wondering is this: Why does every day that doesn't end as planned feel so...fail? And FINAL? Like, this was my last chance or something...Because I was weak today, I'm destined to be fat and unhappy forever? Where's the logic in that? Sure, tomorrow's another day. A whole new day. So why doesn't that fact console me in the slightest? Why doesn't it make me feel better to know that I can try again tomorrow?
Where's the deadline? Where's the sense of urgency? Why do I feel like I've LOST the game altogether when I go over my calorie limit a few days in a row... It feels like I've been slipping down the side of this mud-covered slope, struggling to keep my head above the muck and now...Now I've fallen all the way to the bottom again. So what? Why can't I pick myself up, dust it all off and try again? Why does it feel impossible to go on, when I've done it before? The feeling of having tried SO hard for so long, only to ruin it for myself this way (there's that word again: "ruin," as if it's all fucking hopeless and shit...)...Why does it feel like it's inevitable that I'll fail eventually, let's just get it over with. Fuck that.
Fact of the matter is, I'm probably overreacting. Ha. Me?! Imagine that.
I haven't ballooned back up to my starting weight...I haven't suddenly, as if by some evil magic, returned to 160 lbs overnight. I've probably put on like three or four pounds, reasonably speaking, over the course of four days of all out bingeing, reckless abandon and defiance of Ana and all that she does for me. Ingrate.
As I said before, I haven't weighed myself today, nor will I do so tomorrow or the next day. Even so, I can almost already guess what the scale (inaccurate as it is) will tell me. Probably about 132 or so. That IS, of course, if I manage to stop this ongoing eating that seems to have overtaken me as of late...Come up behind me with a bottle of chloroform and a blindfold, gagged me and bound me in weakness and desire for indulgence...Turning me into something I'm not, a piggish glutton, only concerned with suffocating the beast behind my eyes, within my already bloated belly... "Eat more...." But it's not even eating at that point. Sneak into the kitchen...wait til everyone leaves. They can't see you do this, they'll stare at you in horror and confusion as you go through the process... Open mouth. Insert food. Chew. Swallow. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Til it's gone. All of it. Dispose of it. Take it all. No tasting, no enjoyment, just the pain of my insides as my body screams at my brain and my hands to stop, fucking stop, you're hurting yourself...
Hurting myself in so many ways...My chest and stomach ache from remaining FULL for nearly 36 hours straight. My insides burn with that familiar ex-lax burn...and still I feel stuffed. Happy New Year indeed.
Ugh. Thanks for letting me rant.
I'll probably be back later. <3 you all.
I heard something funny the other day. "We'll all pay it later. You with your credit card, me with my diet." It's needlessly fatalistic to think this is your last chance. I mean, you've already discussed how silly it is to think one day of (over)eating will send you rocketing up to 160. But by the same token, what would one day of not eating give you? Would you wake up the next morning at 99 pounds? Pessimissim is a self-fulfilling prophecy. You are better than you know. You are not the failure you think you are.
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