What’s working

I’ve lost 8lbs in the past two weeks. It’s so nice. I’m starting to feel slightly better even though I’m really fat still.

My routine is to take a multivitamin in the morning and drink coffee. Then throughout the work day I have a protein bar split in half a few hours apart and an apple. And then a dinner of lean meat and veg prepared with just herbs/seasonings and spray 0cal butter instead of any oils or whatever. Sometimes I allow a small snack in the evening. My calories are 500-700 on a given day. It’s been working well. The days I don’t stick to this, I don’t do well. The multivitamin helps with hunger I feel like and the protein bar as well. For 200 cals it has low sugar and a lot of protein.

There have been a few days this week where my intake was not good, but my body was kind to me. I think not eating for most of the day is a good thing. Then even if I eat a bit in the evening, I have the calories to spare.

I just have to make sure my weekends don’t murder me.

The feeling of hunger is starting not to bother me. I always wondered how long it took to get to this point and now I know it’s about two weeks. Yesterday I ate about 350 calories all day and though I was hungry, I felt ok. I even went to bed with hunger pangs but it wasn’t like “omfg I need to eat.” Even as I write this, I feel hungry but not desperate for food. That’s what I need to start being really restrictive.

The kids want sushi bowls for dinner. Still mentally planning mine.

Thoughts:
Rice 1/2 cup - 100 cals
Lettuce, carrots, cucumber, green onion, sesame seeds, seaweed salad - 50 cals
Edamame - 1/4 cup - 50 cals
Tuna and crab stick - 200 cals
Eel sauce - 60 cals

I just want to be successful this weekend and head into Monday weighing less than this moment. I can do ittttt.

Weekend and ambivalence

Two days of restricting. Successfully. My weight has already dropped a bit and I’ve only had about 500 cals per day.

My body gets so weird when I do this. I feel manic. My mind feels sharper. My body feels good. I have a crazy amount of obsessive energy. I don’t get as weighed down or care as much. I feel euphoric. I do more at work with better focus. I don’t know if the starving births the mania or the mania births the starving.

I hope this feeling sticks a while. Instinctually I feel like I’ll be able to ride it through the week.

Weekends are always the hardest for me. This week I have plenty to distract myself with and plenty of mania to carry out plans. But weekends are always when I struggle to restrict. Only this weekend will be different. The kids and hubby will all be out of town and only myself and baby to take care of.

I fully intend to drink. I intend to slowly sip wine throughout the day Saturday and consume no actual food. I plan to do it carefully so that the hunger pangs are dull and my mind is a little fuzzy and my body a little warm but I can still function like a good mommy. Right under the legal limit methodically timed and planned.

Isn’t mental illness a sad thing?

Just a month ago I was in the pages of this blog discussing my need to let Ana and Mia go. But I don’t really want that. Even as I wrote it, I wasn’t sure if those thoughts were true or just an idealized pipe dream. I projected them out to the universe to see if they would stick and they didn’t. They can’t because the reality is I don’t feel that way.

I want them here. That’s why they have never left. I want them to whisper sweet nothings into my ears while I ignore my ambivalence. I want them to talk me into being thin again the only way I know how. I want to listen again. I’m tired of ignoring their voices.

And I can say “only until...” all I want, but the truth is it doesn’t ever play out that way. First it will be “only for a couple weeks” and then “only for a couple months” and then “only until my first goal weight” and then two years will have passed. I will develop rules to keep it in check, but they will not give me the results I want fast enough, so I will abandon them. I will give into the addiction again. For who knows how long or to what extent.

I’m tired of fighting it. I’m tired of being in this body fat in this town again. I am always my heaviest when I live here. Surrounded by people who are in no way fat.

I don’t think eating disorders ever really go away. I feel so broken about it. Something is off. and I don’t know how to think or feel or act to be healthy. I don’t think I ever really will.

So I get the effits, as my therapist says. If you can’t beat them, join them.

Fatty

I’m fat.

And I just keep getting fatter. The number over the last year has just ballooned when it needed to drop.

I have to come to terms with my body. The baby damage. The aging. It all makes me hate my body and show disregard for it. I don’t even wear makeup anymore. I’m fat. I don’t have cute clothes. I don’t take care of myself. And I desperately need to.

I want to look like all those thin little girls. I want to feel good about myself. I want to be hot.

I need to lose weight. And I keep trying not to be obsessive about it,  but I know no other way. When I say “eff it,” I say it too often and loudly. I balloon. When I say I’ll allow myself to care, I take it too far.

I can’t find balance with this. And if I have to pick an end of the spectrum, I know which one I want.

This is the fattest I have ever been. I can’t live in this body anymore.