I’ve been feeling terrible for weeks. Constant weekends on the road or entertaining have led to terrible choices and weight gain. People tell me every day that I’m melting away and how great I look. Oh how desperately I want to believe them but I know it’s not true. I watch the scale every morning. Hell, let’s be honest, I weigh myself probably 2-10 times, depending on the day. I’m obsessed with it. And each time I step on, I’m hoping for a miracle and that the scale will deny what I shoved in my mouth this weekend. But it doesn’t, no matter how much I plead with it to be water weight or bloating or that I’m wearing my shoes. I’ve gained since I returned from Biggest Loser. The opportunity of a lifetime and I feel some days like I am wasting it all. And I don’t want to but I’m having a hard time figuring out how to stop.
This is a picture of our countertop tonight. Keep in mind this is after the party. You can only imagine the food we had on hand when it started on Saturday. There’s stuff left in the fridge too. I’ve been dealing with some issues regarding someone I love very dearly and what feels like the gradual demise of our friendship. I don’t feel like I can be open about it to them and I find that instead, I’m eating it like I’ve done for so many years. I’m upset about my foot and not being able to work out. My sister’s wedding is in less than 4 weeks and the dress barely zipped when I returned from BLR. Now, I’ve put on weight and I’m terrified that it won’t fit the day of. A sane person would use that as a reason to get it together and take control right? A little slap from reality? It’s making me eat more. I’m at home on the couch with my foot in a walking boot, staring at her wedding invites, pissed that I can’t be at the gym. And every few minutes I find myself walking into the kitchen and snacking on something on the counter or in the fridge. Not the good snacks, mind you. Not the fruit or baked chips or reduced fat crackers. No, that’s just silly talk. I want the comfort food. The naughty and forbidden. That which I know will ruin my scale again tomorrow. It’s all I can think about. It’s like it’s screaming my name from the kitchen. So I ate some. Then I went back and ate some more and before I know it, I want to vomit. And the very thought of eating myself into a state where I feel like I need to vomit makes me start crying. So then I’m sitting on the couch crying, wanting to eat but not wanting to be fat and I’m feeling more and more miserable by the minute. Pretty messed up, huh? Its ok, you can think I’m crazy. Today I probably wouldn’t argue with you about it.
If someone called me right now and said this was happening to them, I could find a million ideas for them to avoid it, tricks to stop, other activities to try and hopefully convince them to love themselves and think about how much better they will feel tomorrow if they refrain. Why can’t I do it for myself today? Why am I sitting here feeding my self-pity and loathing with terrible things? Why must I sabotage all the wonderful things I have accomplished and how far I have come? Why can’t I stop eating myself stupid?