Tag Archives: binging

Neverending

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 hate thanksgiving

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…

Relapse. Again. 

So all week I’ve been stuck in the binge cycle, finally culminating with a purge last night. Then today I’ve been eating shit again, and tomorrow I’m going to the beach and will have to be in a bikini hating myself. I don’t understand why I can’t quit this shit. Why can’t I stop eating before I’m uncomfortably full? Why am I so drawn to all the worst shit? Why do I keep buying binge food and keeping it in the house when I fucking know better? And why is starving the next day the only solution that seems reasonable to my fucked-up brain? Logically I know that doesn’t help. I know it likely is a strong contributor to my binging behavior. Why is ED able to override my logical side EVERY TIME?? 

Sugar is bad

It makes me feel shitty. Never once have I finished a bag of candy and thought, “gee I feel great.” I usually want to puke, but purging candy is a lost cause. I feel like a fat cow. I get bloated and thirsty. It sets me up for more overeating. It makes me fat. It makes me feel out of control. It makes me feel weak. It makes me tired. It makes me too full for healthy food. It gives me zits. It makes me depressed. 

Hopefully if I can just remember these reasons I’ll be able to stop eating this shit. 

Sorry I’ve been gone so long. 

I have just been doing absolutely nothing fitness- or diet-wise since my wedding almost three months ago and I guess I didn’t want to come on here and publicly admit defeat. 

Literally, nothing. I haven’t run a single mile, and have pretty much been stuffing my face nonstop with all the shit I was trying not to eat before my wedding (even tho I wasn’t even totally successful then either). 

My clothes don’t fit right; I’m too self-conscious to wear anything remotely form-fitting, and I want to cry every time I look in the mirror. But yet, I can’t seem to motivate myself to do anything about it. I’m always in the kitchen looking for food, even if I just ate and I know I’m not hungry, and no matter how many alarms I set in the morning I keep going back to sleep instead of running. 

The last time I got in a funk like this I gained 20 goddamn pounds; I cannot let that happen again! Some people lose their appetite when they’re depressed – I am not one of those people. But I already take meds and see a shrink; I don’t know what else to do here. Any suggestions? 

I thought maybe it was bc after finishing grad school and getting married I had nothing productive to focus on, but I’ve been taking online classes in computer science (for free!) and that hasn’t helped. But not taking classes doesn’t help either so it’s not due to stress.

Someone help me please!

I hate Thanksgiving.

I have not stopped eating for a week, and haven’t worked out either. I can see myself getting softer and bigger and I just feel like a disgusting blob. It’s gotten to the point where I’m just eating all the junk I have because I want it out of the house so I can get back on track next week. Sometimes I purge, sometimes I don’t. I think I’ve just been so stressed out with work and life that I haven’t had the mental energy left to make an effort with my eating.

How much weight could I have possibly gained in a week? I’m terrified to get on the scale, but i know that sometimes I tend to assume the worst when it’s not really so bad. I mean, any gain is upsetting, but if I’m only up a pound or two to 114-115, then that’s okay. But if I’m 117 or more I’m going to be really upset.

Which is so crazy, because there was definitely a time when I would have done anything to be 117. Back when I was b/p-ing 10 times a day, I was in the 130s (even the 140s for a while) and thought 125 would be a great weight to maintain and be thin but healthy. But now I’m back to my anorexia-binging subtype and 120 seems way way way too high. I’m thinking about all the desperate shit I did to try to lose weight and wondering if it would be worth doing any of that again – thinking diet pills, even drugs.

Ugh I am so tired of this.

Maybe this is progress?

So I didn’t really eat much today – a smoothie for breakfast, an iced tea for lunch, an apple for snack. But then dinner came and I was starving so I said, “you know what, I’m eating a real meal.” And I ate a giant bowl of leftover seafood fri diavlo with linguini and only felt a little bit guilty. So my daytime eating habits were fucked, but I think my attitude at night makes up for it a bit right?

But then I got some really shitty news – long story not for this blog – and I’ve been crawling out of my skin ever since. I want to binge, I want to purge, I want to run for hours. I finally took a Klonopin, but even that’s not really helping. Hence why I’m on here blogging instead of working on my final paper or doing anything productive.

I think after being stressed to the max all day every day at work, I just have nothing left for additional angst when I’m home. So I can’t deal and want to turn to behaviors. I’ll have to discuss this with my shrink next week. I think I need a higher dose for emergencies like this.

Ugh I really need to get back to this paper… I’m just having such a hard time caring lately. I don’t want to do schoolwork. I don’t want to go out and socialize. I just want to sit on the couch in my sweatpants and fuck around on the Internet.

I’m already taking 300mgs of Wellbutrin, exercising, and getting proper sleep; I don’t know what else to do about these blues. It might be time to pull the light box out. I hate pretty much all of now through the middle of April. And now I’m just rambling.

Accomplishment and failure.

So this morning I ran my first-ever 5k race – yay! And I set a personal record for speed so that was exciting. And then I put an offer in on a house so that was exciting too. But then I spent the rest of the day eating shit.

I tried to feel normal about it for a while. It was football Sunday, and we had some beers and apps. And then we had dinner later. But then I got home and I just felt so bloated and gross that I just said “fuck it” and ate a bag of Reeses Pieces.

So now I need to work out tomorrow even though it’s a holiday and I was planning on taking the day off. Maybe I’ll do something other than running, like a long walk or whatever. Blerg.

But the weird part is I don’t even feel like purging (although I would probably go ahead and take some laxatives if I had them). I just like can’t be bothered. I’m completely out of fucks to give today.

Wtf.

Seriously, wtf is wrong with me?? I am like obsessed with food. All I could think about all day today was eating – and this was even after eating an apple, banana, and TWO Jif to Go packs. I can’t argue that I’m calorie deficient, unless my body has suddenly decided it actually wants to be 150lbs heavier.

I went out with one of my best friends tonight for dinner and drinks. I had a nice protein-full meal (and two 8oz glasses of wine) and yet still bought a muffin as soon as I got to the train station, in addition to the giant bag of Reese’s pieces that I fully intend to eat upon getting home.

Sometimes I think I use my ED as an excuse. Like, I can’t keep up with the reading but not bc I’m stupid just because I’m busy binging. Like I should have used the past 20 mins to read, but I ate a muffin and bought candy and am now blogging about my fatness instead.

I’ll prob read on the train bc I don’t want anyone to see me shoving handfuls of Reese’s pieces into my mouth, but I’ll totally eat the whole bag while doing my homework tonight.

I’ve never written about a binge mid-occurrence before; it’s kind of weird.

Going back to school was a terrible idea. To me, school and ED go hand-in-hand. I spent most of undergrad with serious bulimia – I’m talking like 20 binge/purge episodes a day – and then ever since school has meant alternating between serious restriction and hard-core binging.

Why can’t I read a book without a bag of candy? Why can’t I do homework without a giant pile of food, interrupted by purging? Why can’t I go to class and eat at dinnertime like everyone else?

Maybe it IS an excuse. Maybe I just can’t get past this “I’m not good enough” mentality, so at least if I have ED to blame it on I won’t feel like I suck so much (even tho then I suck for eating too much or whatever).

It’s funny, I kind of want to turn this shit into a career, like working in an ED treatment facility, but then I’m like, would I be in competition with the patients? Would they make me eat whenever they did until I got fat(ter)? So there goes that idea. Probably why I didn’t end up majoring in psych – the idea of changing my own fucked up behaviors is terrifying.

And the worst part is, I have absolutely no one to talk to about this. If I tell my doc, she’ll make me go back to monthly appts, which I can’t afford. If I tell my psychiatrist, she’ll take me off the Wellbutrin, which is the only thing keeping me from killing myself lately. And if I tell my fiancé or friends? They’ll just give me that “wtf” look that I know so well, never understanding why I can’t just eat like a normal person and not put so much meaning into everything.

Ugh. Sometimes suicide is really tempting… But I couldn’t do that to my cat, and I’m not skinny enough to let ppl look at me in a coffin. I’d say some regret about my fiancé and friends and family, but I don’t think they’d miss me much.

I am so fucked up it’s ridiculous.