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 feel like I’m not entitled to use the word “recovery” any more. I’m obviously not trying. My ED has returned full-blown, and I don’t even have the energy to fight it anymore. I purged my dinner at a fancy restaurant last night, and then binged on cookies when I got home. I’m spending the whole day eating today, and then plan to starve all week (except Thanksgiving, which will obviously be a binge). I’ve pretty much given up on running until it gets warmer and I stop working 50-hour weeks, and have gone back to procrastinating on all my schoolwork because I’m too busy stuffing my face or reading about weight-loss. As of Friday I was down to 112 lbs, which is probably the lowest I’ve been since 2006 when I was in the more anorexic phase of my ED journey, and while I know that’s a very low weight I’m still consumed by thoughts of wanting to lose more while simultaneously knowing I need to hide the loss from friends and family (although yet another part of me kind of wants someone to notice).
I don’t have the mental energy left to fight my urges and behaviors, so I’ve just been giving in – and it’s making me fucking miserable. Anyone who thinks EDs are glamorous and cool has obviously never been consumed by one. It’s not fun to be afraid of going out with your friends or spouse because you fear the calories and being caught purging. It’s not cool to flush the meal your spouse worked hard on, or spent way too much money on, down the toilet. It’s not glamorous to be constantly sick from malnutrition and shoving germy hands down your throat. And it won’t make you happy when food is the only thing on your mind 24/7, to the detriment of school, work, and family.
If only I could listen to my own advice, then maybe I’d be able to give recovery a shot yet again. I’m just tired of all of this, and it’s easier to give in – after almost a decade, it’s pretty routine – than it is to make the conscious effort to eat healthily. I wish I could go back in time to my 17-year-old self and tell her to not even go down this road in the first place; it’s not fucking worth it.