my weight is down (for me) again. i'm about 125 (at 5'6). sure, that sounds like a lot for us eating disordered gals, but, my body wants even more -- it loves weight. to weigh 125, i still have to restrict and note every morsel.
if i could only let myself gain the 5-10 pounds my body wants, i could live such an easier life, but i am having a really hard time. When the scale says 125 i'm happy and relaxed for the day, until after dinner when i start wondering what i'll weigh tomorrow. when the scale reads more than 127, an oppressive gloom shadows the day.
i like what i weigh now! but it's too hard and takes up too much of my life. generally, i restrict all day and eat most of my food at night. this has always been my way -- all day, i look forward to my late night meal. then i go right to bed, so i won't want to eat again.
lately, i've been eating even more at night -- i think it's because i'm not drinking. i'm looking for something to stick in my mouth and sedate my brain.
not eating during the day is not productive. i'm listless and unfocused at work in the morning until i get a giant headache and let myself eat something small around noon. then i wait until i'm starving and useless at about 6 pm and nibble a small snack again. when my boyfriend can't wait any more, we eat dinner around 9;30. if i'm alone, it's much later.
my therapist asks how she can help. she's a terrific substance abuse counselor but doesn't know much about the idiosyncracies of EDs. i don't think she gets the big deal about skipping breakfast, etc. she wants me to track everything i eat. i resist. it reminds me of the dreadful years of counting calories and it feels terribly private - "it's none of her business", spits my ED.
i'm not sure about the best approach. a big part of it is self-esteem and body image. if i didn't think i was ugly, a few more pounds wouldn't make me even more hideous. in school, i was ceaselessy teased about being fat, having braces, acne and frizzy hair. i believed everything i heard and can still clearly remember every put-down spewed my way.
no wonder i cling to my thinner self even though it seems silly to my rational self. what big difference does five pounds make? when i met my boyfriend, i was 15 pounds heavier. he told me i was his fantasy girl then; he tells me i'm his fantasy girl now. around thanksgiving i carried seven more pounds. the boyfriend rolled over in the morning and said, "how did i get lucky enough to get to sleep with you?" .
of course, i can't base my self-image on what my boyfriend thinks, but who else matters besides the two of us? at 130ish, i'm slim and healthy. why can't i know that?
what if i could make peace with a few more pounds? what would i do with myself if i'm not watching my weight? or drinking? or taking pills? i don't have many hobbies. i've really spent most of my life dieting.
i never made myself do much else. dieting fed my fears and my laziness. i'd have to build a life. scarey. part of me wants to do it; part of me says, "fuck that, fatty". this isn't going to be easy.
by the way, i just got a fountain soda at the pizza place. it tasted like regular, not diet coke. of course, i threw it out in terror. now, i have nothing to drink.