It's really cold in my office lately. When it really bothers me I drink a cup of hot water with a packet of calorie-free sweetener in it. My breakfasts lately have consisted of diet Pepsi or diet Coke and my meds. Occasionally I've supplemented that with a bite of bread or a cup of coffee. I'm trying to use the caffeine to combat the sleepiness and dizziness that settles in shortly after the medication makes its way into my bloodstream. It doesn't really work, but it keeps me working. I'm fighting my urge to return to that period in my life when Brian offered to put newspaper in the corner and call me a rabbit, but then I see photos like this:
and I have to say that it's really hard. On the left, I needed a belt with every pair of jeans. I think the ones in the pic on the left are a 3. On the right, most people will notice the absence of my now-fuller breasts. If you read anything in-depth about ED's it'll often say that it's not really about the weight-loss or maintenance. That the deeper root is usually related to control of some sort. And yes, I'd be willing to admit that there's at least some truth to that for me. If I can't control the whirlwind around me, or can't muster the courage to take control over some of it currently, it's much easier to take control of what goes or doesn't go into my body. Another facet is that there's a strong desire within me to feel attractive enough. I know, I know -- it will never be enough. It's probably not even a quantitative concept. But despite the reinforcement I find from friends and FH, I don't agree. I've argued with people, usually while intoxicated, but I present a decent case. I'm eating dinner everynight, but at this point my appetite is beggining to fade sort of by default.
I sort of fell apart in the middle of writing this. Work also got in the way. And me. Sorry Brian, guess I'm not ready to let it out yet.