The worst part about being a well-educated person with an ED is I know how goddamn stupid it is. I know that heavy restriction will eventually lead to binging and regaining the weight, and I know I’m losing mostly muscle and gaining mostly fat, and I know I’m probably less metabolically healthy than a lot of people with 40lbs on me, and I know eating 500cals of fat-free candy is actually worse than eating 800 cals of real food cooked in olive oil, and I know that purging won’t get rid of all the calories, but I can’t shake the need to engage in these behaviors. I understand that it’s not physically possible to gain 10lbs of actual fat overnight, but that doesn’t make me obsess over the possibility any less. I acknowledge that my weight is less than that of most Americans, but that doesn’t stop me from feeling like the fattest personality in the room. And then I feel stupid and ridiculous because I know that I can educate myself all I want but it won’t matter because ED isn’t logical or rational and doesn’t care how smart I might be. Worse yet, I know that eventually ED will take my mind too because the brain doesn’t care what size my pants are if that means it doesn’t get the nutrition it needs, but ED is just the opposite.
Right before class ended (actual class, not finals), I was down to my wedding weight. Now I’m terrified to get on the scale, so I don’t have an exact number, but even my fat pants are too tight so I’ve got to be up 10 lbs.
Luckily the new year starts next week and I go back to class, so hopefully I’ll be able to shed this weight in a month – it’s no longer holiday season so there won’t be that pressure to eat sweets constantly, and I can go back to black coffee for dinner instead of peppermint mocha lattes and all that (delicious) sugary holiday shit.
I wonder if my husband notices? Not that he’d have any right to say anything; he’s gained like 50 lbs in the decade we’ve been together. But does he see my love handles and pouchy belly and jiggly arms and bat wings? I know he’s not into fat chicks, but where does he draw that line? And how thin can I get before he starts to get on my case about eating? God I wish I was a mind-reader.
But anyway, the New Years’ weight loss plan is nothing new. My concern is what happens when the spring semester ends and I’m back home all the time again. Will I just gain it again and be fat until the fall? Will the cycle ever end? Can’t I just find a happy medium and stay there? I honestly feel like I maintained my weight better when I was b/p-ing every day; at least then the net intake was approximately consistent. Now I’m rarely puking (although I did this afternoon, after eating half a sleeve of Girl Scout cookies) but I’m either ingesting 5,000+ calories a day or I’m restricting to 800. This is not sustainable! But when the alternative (daily b/p-ing) is even more harmful, what do I do? I’d rather be sick than fat.
ED is so fucked up.
I try to enjoy it; I really do. I even start to feel festive by the time I wake up thanksgiving morning. Unfortunately, by the time I’m laying in bed that night, as now, I loathe both the holiday and myself. Why can’t I just eat a normal meal? Why do I get full so quickly on actual food but then have seven desserts? (Literally, seven.) I have zero desire to eat tomorrow and hope I can get to at least dinner without doing so. Thank goodness it’s back to a regular schedule next week and I can heavily restrict three days and at least skip lunch the other two. Also, I’ve got to get more exercise. My thighs are so squishy it’s horrifying. My sister got gastric bypass surgery recently so she gets full quickly and “can’t” eat dessert or other simple carbs. I wish bring morbidly obese wasn’t a requirement to get that. I need it as prevention, to physically stop me from stuffing my face whenever there’s food around. I was watching a drug documentary when I got home tonight and honestly for like an hour I was wishing I was still a drug addict so I’d be obsessing about that instead of just food all the time. My sister’s bestie is super tall and thin and is on the ketogenic diet, which everyone accepts for some reason. I stopped eating meat a decade ago with no issue; maybe I just need to start telling everyone I don’t eat sugar or something so the fear of being called out will keep me accountable. Hmm…
I had a relapse the other day – full on b/p, like the old days. Donuts, chips, crackers, chocolates, really anything I could get my hands on. I was trying to figure out what triggered it, but all I can come up with is that I’m just sad. In general, all the time. I miss my bestie who moved across the country. I feel overwhelmed by school, and pressure to be perfect there. My general anxiety has increased to the point where I’m always convinced people are talking about me or mad at me or don’t like me. It gets dark early now so I almost never see the sun. B/p-ing is a way to distract from all of that, and on some level it gives me something to blame for my failures other than myself.
I think I need to up my medication. But I don’t like my new doctor. My old psychiatrist moved across the country, so I had to stop seeing her after like seven years together. This new one is older, and spent our whole first appointment looking at the computer screen and typing very formulaic info about me (that I can clearly see). I don’t feel like I can open up to her, or like she gives a shit anyway. She’s a little overweight and I feel like she doesn’t take my body dysmorphia issues seriously, like she’s thinking “this skinny bitch has no right to complain about feeling fat.” But maybe she’ll understand anxiety at least.
I wish I could move across the country w/ my bestie; it’s warm and sunny there all the time.
Just had an a-ha moment in regards to one reason why I binge. I’ve always known it has to do with feeling overwhelmed or out of control; it’s like a little way of saying “fuck you, I’ll eat all the things I’m not ‘supposed’ to eat just because I CAN.” But sometimes I don’t feel like that fits – I’m not doing anything really stressful; just sitting on the couch – until tonight when it clicked.
My husband is an alcoholic. We’ve had conversations and screaming matches, I’ve made graphs and bawled my eyes out, but nothing ever changes. And so I guess that aspect of my life is ALWAYS out of control, leading to random urges – urges that get irresistible when he’s passed out on the couch before 9pm. So tonight I binged on ice cream, chips, and bagels. I feel disgusted with myself both physically and mentally, but it’s slightly helpful to have figured out a piece of the puzzle.
I started law school about six weeks ago, and I’ve lost five pounds. I know I didn’t do it in a healthy way; it’s mostly from restricting now that I’m not home for dinner three nights a week. However, part of that restriction has been just in the fact that I can’t sit around binging on the couch anymore, which I think might actually be a good thing. So I don’t know, it’s a mixed bag.
Anyway, last night we went to the grocery store to buy a few things for dinner, and I ended up impulse-buying a package of Twizzlers and some chips. So today I’m sitting around doing my reading and I ate half the chips and all of the Twizzlers. Interestingly enough, I’m not freaking out about the calories – although I am slightly disappointed in myself for continuing my streak of weekend overeating – because I know I can make up for it during the week. However, I forgot what an impact binging had on my mental state just physiologically. The massive sugar rush is making me dizzy and unable to focus, and the resulting crash is making me exhausted and unable to retain what I’m reading. It’s been a while since I’ve been able to notice the physical effects of binging and not just the psychological ones.
So I don’t know if this will be helpful going forward with not buying sugary snacks, or if it just means I’m not going to get anything done for the next four hours.
After like seven years together, my shrink is moving to St. Louis. She wants me to get set up with someone new before our last appt next month. But I don’t want to. I’ve been doing this shit for half my life, and I am fucking tired of it. I’m so goddamn tired of caring so much about the numbers on the scale and on my pants. I am so goddamn tired of my self esteem being inversely correlated to the number of calories I eat each day. I’ll begrudgingly call my PCP’s office and ask for a referral a few days before I see my shrink for the last time only because I need someone to keep writing my prescriptions. But I don’t want to start over working through my issues. I don’t want to start over trying to be happy when it’s February and I haven’t seen the sun in a week and I’m eating a pint of Ben & Jerry’s for lunch. I just want to be a fucking normal 30 year old. I’m too old for this shit.