Not Helping

I wrote a bit ago about how I had been sick (well, when I wrote that post I was currently sick) and as a result lost 3 pounds in 3 days.

When I went back to work I had lost a total of four and a bit pounds and apparently it was noticeable. I don’t understand how, but people said they could tell, and asked if I was ok, and did all that concerned questioning nosy thing that people do. When I said I had been sick they switched to concerned but not as nosy, which is a bit better I guess.

This also seemed to open up the gateway for them to comment on my weight in general.

I’ve lost weight this past year. People love talking about that shit. I lie, and tell them I lost it in a healthy way. They have no reason to not believe me, so they nod and say I did a great job.

Then they proceed to tell me how I shouldn’t lose anymore weight because “you’re wasting away!” but in the next breath they say how great I look. Even when I came back to work after being sick people were saying how great I looked…right after telling me I looked sick *rolls eyes* People!

This is not helping me get back to a more “normal” way of eating.

When I was sick I was living off of chicken noodle soup, tea, and very small amounts of apple juice. When I’m sick my appetite, the sad little thing that it is, goes right out the window, and it takes everything I can muster to remember to drink the tea, let alone eat the soup.

I knew I had lost weight. And because I always want to lose weight I was happy with this loss. My ribs were more prominent, I felt lighter, stronger, more capable, smarter, better. I feel a lot of great things when my weight goes down…which makes it reeeeally hard to be ok with staying at this weight or gaining. When I went back to work I had zero internal incentive to go back to eating anything other than my soup and tea.

My first day back at work I worked two jobs, then went to the gym, then went home and ate nothing post-workout, then woke up the next day so much sicker that I had to call in and miss two days of work. Apparently I went back to the gym a tad too soon. Oops! Since I spiraled back down in to the world of being sick I also spiraled back in to the justification that it is ok to eat only the chicken noodle soup and the tea. Oh how easy it is to think like that.

So now I’m basically over the cold, just some sinus stuff. It is the first day of my work week, I worked two jobs, went to the gym after work, and am about to head to bed and I am realizing I am having a very hard time with eating. Not just eating in general, which I always have, but eating foods I used to be ok with. I used to be ok with eating oatmeal. I didn’t eat it when sick cause it was too much for me. Now I can’t bring myself to eat it. Just the thought of it makes me cringe a bit. I don’t know why. I like oatmeal. I was totally fine with eating it before…hell, it was one of my few food staples, but now, well, I went without it all that time I was sick so obviously I don’t need it, so why eat it?

A lot of foods have turned in to dilemmas like this for me.

Eggs? Yup.

Bread? Yup.

Oatmeal we already discussed.

Fish? Yup.

Certain vegetables? sigh, yes, even those.

Now, that list may not seem long but it basically all the food I allowed myself to eat on any regular basis.

Right now my list of ok foods seems to consist of chicken noodle soup. Even I know that isn’t a good list! Though part of my brain thinks it is brilliant. *rolls eyes*

I don’t know how to integrate my old foods back in to my rotation, I didn’t really anticipate them leaving my rotation ya know?

My screwed up brain, combined with all the compliments I am getting from people about how great I look is making it hard to see the logic of eating again. If I look so great after what turned out to basically be a soup diet, why not continue?

I know the people at my work don’t mean harm, they don’t know what I am struggling with, they don’t know that by telling me I look great and skinny and all that they are re-enforcing that not eating is a good choice and strengthening my fear that eating any other foods will result in my becoming immediately fatter.

I know it’s not their fault. I know it. I swear I know it! And I know I have to control how I respond to people’s comments and I have to control how I internalize what people are really saying. Someone saying I look good doesn’t translate to I should never eat again, not in other peoples brains anyways, and I have to break that connection in mine.

But c’mon, I got called skinny today. Me. The fat girl with a good 30 pounds left to lose. I don’t want to lose that compliment and right now my brain is saying I’ll lose it if I eat.

Messed up. My head is so messed up.

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Does Recovery Equal Fat

My treatment plan is all group therapy based. I’ve never done inpatient, or residential, and I never will. I know, I know, never say never, but seriously guys, never.

So my experience with recovery, both mine and other peoples is quite limited.

Something I have noticed over the past year is the weight fluctuations of the people in my various group sessions. I find it troubling…

Hitting a bump in recovery and going down makes sense to me, especially if you are anorexic or have restricting tendencies. Even going up makes sense if you are a binge eater.

But someone who is supposedly doing really well with their recovery and the treatment team is pleased with their progress and they are now imparting their recovery wisdom on to the rest of us who has gotten fat, um yeah, I can’t get behind that.

Now granted, I may not be the best person to be judging if someone is “fat” but even I can tell when someone has had a significant weight gain…and if it is in the name of recovery, well, what the hell?

This guy from one of my groups went to residential treatment, or maybe it was inpatient first then residential…whichever it was, he was out of the group treatment for a while and doing a more intense treatment. I’ve read people’s blogs about inpatient treatment, generally you aren’t allowed to exercise, you have strict meal times, and strict meal plans.

This guy, I’m gonna call him J, he used to run a lot and ate once a day. I don’t know what he ate so I don’t know for sure how much or little he was consuming. He is in his mid-forties and had been doing this most of his life. When I met him in group he looked to be in great shape. Yes, I know, looks are deceiving, but I’m just trying to give you a picture here.

So in shape guy, goes to more intensive treatment, when that treatment is done J comes back to group, and J is fat. And I don’t mean a little bit extra but not really all that noticeable, I mean like, lots extra. Lots.

I feel so sad for him. That people he meets now who never knew him before will only know him as this over weight mid-40s guy instead of the runner, the athlete, that he was.

Maybe he is healthier inside, physically and mentally, I dunno, I can’t speak to that.

And he’s not the only one! There is a girl in group who ballooned up. She got so big! Both these people are considered to be doing oh so well with recovery, we are supposed to be impressed with their progress, they are sharing nuggets of wisdom to help guide the rest of us, but all I can think is that they failed. They fell in to the trap. The trap that is recovery makes you fat.

There has got to be a way to recover without becoming over weight! There has to be *stomps foot* because I refuse, abso-fuckin-lutely refuse to go any further with recovery if it means becoming over weight.

I work hard to understand and believe that when my dietician asks me to add a new food to my list of foods I will eat, or to eat more than one meal a day, or to consider drinking a glass of milk, that she is thinking about nutrients, and fueling my body, and stuff like that. But I always think she is trying to sabotage me and make me fat. And I kind of, in a vague way, grasp that my thinking she is trying to sabotage me is probably my ed trying to scare me or trick me in to not changing. On my good days I kinda get that.

But…it doesn’t take away from my fear that she is trying to make me fat.

Now I have two people who have actually gotten fat from recovering and omg the panic I feel whenever I think of either of them. That panic can take me from contemplating having a snack to ordering myself to not eat anything else for the rest of the day because all food will make me fat and who knows which food will be the tipping point that takes me from what I look like now to looking like them.

Envision a big ass wall slamming down and blocking off all food, that is what it feels like in my brain. I panic, that wall slams down, and boom! No more appetite. No more willingness to try to eat. No more openness to the idea that my treatment team is right.

Just a big ass black wall that stops me from getting to any of the things that are on the recovery side of my brain…heck, not even an entire side, more like a little itty bitty section eeked out in a corner with one tiny fluorescent light that barely works swinging over a battered desk and some figure huddled under the desk trying desperately to get work done without being noticed and kicked yet again.

When that wall slams down it takes so freakin long to get it open even an inch, and it is exhausting to try. And part of me doesn’t want to try, because, well, if forcing it open, and working this whole recovery deal is going to end up with me fat well, no, just no, that is not an ok end result for me.

Does everybody who recovers from an ed get fat? Or is it just coincidence that I am seeing it happen right in front of my eyes to people I know? Are they the exception or the rule?

…I just realized that a lot of my posts lately have been very negative and “screw recovery-esque” which has me wondering why I am so defensive all of a sudden…yet one more thing to ponder…

Sick

Last work week (I work Fridays through Tuesdays) I got exposed to a plethora of germs because people at work decided that even though they were sick, like, super sick, they’d still come to work because “I never get sick, it isn’t that bad”…only to have to leave early because of just how sick they were.

I really, and I mean reeeally, hate when people come to work sick.

Keep your freakin germs to yourself people!

Anyways…

When I was leaving work Monday I was feeling it, the sore throat, the sniffles, the tiredness. Definite signs I was getting sick. I ran errands instead of going to the gym like I had planned and stocked up on DayQuil, kleenex, throat lozenges, the apple juice mentioned in a previous post, and Vitamin C drops.

A sick person’s survival kit!

I didn’t end up as sick as the others though and stupidly thought I’d managed to escape the horrible-wish-I-was-dead version of this illness. Now I think I might have just been incubating it and it is about ready to make itself fully known…just in time for my new work week. Fuck.

I spent Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday taking things easy. I mean, I still had things to do (a work shift Tuesday and two appointments Wednesday in regards to my eating disorder recovery) but other than those things I stayed at home, read books, cuddled with the cat, and tried to let my body rest.

Oh, and I took AirBorne, I swear by that stuff.

Wednesday I thought I was pretty much better and I’d be able to go to the gym Thursday, Thursday came though and omg I think I am getting worse. My voice is kinda going. My sinuses are doing worse (plugged and runny nose at the same time, super annoying!), I’m cold, can’t focus, basically a lot of the symptoms of, oh I don’t know, a sick person.

So tomorrow, because I can’t find someone to cover my shift I will be that person who goes to work sick, and spreads her germs. Ugh.

In regards to my eating disorder, getting sick like this does not help me at all. Well, unless you listen to my eating disorder, it is practically doing hand stands because of how little I am able to eat when sick.

Even when not sick I suck at following a meal plan but I try to eat twice a day…which depending on where you are in recovery sounds like not enough or way too much. To me it still sounds like too much, but I try really hard to manage it. It took a while to build up to that much food in one day and I don’t really like it, shrug.

When sick any thought of following a meal plan basically goes right out the window. My appetite disappears, nothing tastes right, I have even less interest in food. Most of my brain thinks these are all great things but the part of me that is learning shit in recovery knows that these aren’t great things.

My ed brain says:

Eating broth and drinking tea is a totally acceptable thing to do. One bowl of broth is definitely a days worth of calories.

My recovery side says:

Not enough food dumb ass.

My ed brain says:

You’re sick, you don’t have to eat when you’re sick. Don’t worry about it.

My recovery side says:

The less you eat the harder it is for your body to get better. You need nutrients to get better. Eat something!

My ed brain says:

If you’re going to eat something then you’re going to ruin all the benefits of being sick. Think of how quickly you’re losing weight right now. Think of how easy it is because you don’t have an appetite because you’re sick. Why throw that away? Be strong! Don’t eat! You don’t need food! But if you do eat then you might as well binge because you’re a failure, a loser who can’t manage the simple task of not eating. You don’t deserve to be skinny. You don’t deserve to get to your goal. If you’re going to eat then eat something ridiculous, something high calorie, something that will make you feel bloated, and overly full, and gross, because you deserve to feel all those things if you eat, because you failed.

My recovery side says:

It says nothing. Because it is barely a whisper in my mind on my best days and it can’t stand up to my ed brain when it is on a roll.

So here I am, sick. I did manage a meal the other day that had all 4 food groups in it. A small meal. Probably it is classified as more of a snack, but to me it is a meal. And a win.

Today…not so much.

Today I ate soup, though I had two bowls instead of one, which I guess counts for something. And I had some bread, because I am weak and I like bread…but is it weak that I like bread and choose to eat it or is it ok to eat something I like, in moderation…I question this but I know what I feel the answer is, it is weak, and I am weak for eating the bread. Just because I like it doesn’t mean I should eat it. I like a lot of things I don’t eat anymore. Bread is useless calories, unnecessary food, I should really get rid of it, sigh.

I weighed myself today and am down 3 pounds in three days. Which the majority of me is thrilled about, but also terrified I will screw up and as a result of the terror my brain has been screaming at me all day to not eat ever again or those three pounds will pile back on with a whole bunch more. But ya know what, I ate the soup anyways, so fuck you voice!

Oh god, I don’t mean it, I do mean it, I don’t know what I mean. I’m so confused.

I don’t want to be a lost cause to my recovery team. I don’t want to be one of those people who they feel is beyond their help and is let go so someone more deserving can be given help. I think I am one of those people though, and they’ll figure it out soon, and I’ll be left alone to deal with what is in my head, and I will fold to the ed and stop fighting even the small amount I am fighting, and I’ll be screwed.

You know, this post was going to be about how I lost three pounds in three days and isn’t that so great? But apparently I have other shit on my mind right now…who knew something could be bigger in my head then a lower number on the scale? This cold must be really messing with my brain. *rolls eyes*

Body Image

I hate being asked what I think about my body image. Like seriously, what doctor thinks that is an okay thing to ask a person? I never know how to answer.

Uh…well, I know I am fat, so I guess that is how I think about my body image?

I have sucky body image.

I don’t want to talk about it.

Those are my instinctive responses but none of them seem to be the right answer. sigh.

In case you hadn’t guessed, I was asked that recently. It makes me stumble every time I am asked, makes me screw up the rest of the conversation, makes me want to punch a wall and look down at my feet at the same time. That question makes me so incredibly uncomfortable.

It also got me thinking about body image. Which is a pisser.

I know I am fat. I see myself in the mirror every damn day don’t I? And not just in clothes, clothes that I choose specifically to try to hide my many flaws, but naked, or in just a towel, or just underwear, when none of the flaws can be hidden. I see it all. I know where all the problem spots are. I see where all my failures are etched on my body. I see where the evidence of my laziness and being prone to over indulgence show.

I see how fat I am. Daily.

I don’t want to have to put that in to words for some doctor.

I fly to a different province for Christmas, a province that has less tax than I do, combining the smaller amount of tax with Christmas and Boxing Week sales, and birthday discounts, I tend to buy clothes when I am there because it will save me money. I needed to replace all my work clothes because none of them were fitting properly, they were all too big. I figured they all got stretched in the wash, and were a bit old, so no big deal. Well imagine my surprise when I am trying clothes on and am going down 2 to 3 sizes before I find things that fit, and those items fit loose. I prefer my clothes loose but I think if I preferred form fitting clothes I could probably have gone down another size. Crazy!

I know I have to take in to account vanity sizing and all that, but…it appears I have shrunk, and it isn’t that my clothes got stretched out.

Hmmm.

Now, I am not at all unhappy that I have gotten smaller, in fact I am thrilled. I am also confused at how this happened and I didn’t notice.

I look at myself every day. I see my flaws, my fat, every day. How did I not notice some of it went away? I mean yeah ok, I had noticed my ribs were more prominent and my hip bones, but my stomach and thighs are still just as fat, my ass still just as big, my face still just as round.

Before that shopping trip I would have said I 100% know what I look like and I 100% know I look the same, am the same, as this time last year. I have not changed in size, no matter how badly I want to.

Apparently that statement would have been wrong.

And I’m struggling because if I didn’t see that I was losing weight, then what if I start gaining weight and I don’t notice? What if I start getting even fatter and I don’t see it, and nobody tells me, and I just get fatter and fatter until there is no coming back from it?

Also, if I don’t see myself as I truly am, if I did get smaller and not see it, but was so sure I knew exactly what I looked like, well, what if there are other things I don’t see clearly? What if there are other aspects of myself, my eating disorder, my attempt at recovery, that I think I 100% see as they are, but, I don’t? And if I don’t see other things clearly, and other people don’t tell me what is the truth, or they tell me but I don’t believe them, how will I ever see things as they truly are?

How can I trust anything I think, or feel, or see, when it comes to me and how I look and my health and my eating disorder, if I somehow went down 3 sizes in clothes and can’t see that change?

How will I know what is real, what I can believe?

It reminds me of when you are driving in the fog. The area right around you doesn’t seem that foggy but farther down the road the fog looks thicker. You go farther down the road and realize it still doesn’t seem so thick around you but a bit farther down the road it looks thicker. Eventually you realize the fog around you is just as thick as the fog down the block, only you can’t see it because it is too close to you for you to perceive, because you are in it.

I am in the midst of my eating disorder, I vaguely knew about it before but chose to ignore the knowledge. Now, now I am aware, and see some things more clearly, but not all things, because I am too much mired in the eating disorder to see things beyond a certain point. Maybe one day I’ll be able to get clear of the fog, but for now, it is around me, blocking me from seeing the truth about who knows how many things, and even though I am aware of it now, it is fog, and I don’t know how to fight something I can’t touch.

 

Apple Juice

Once a week I have a session with a practicum student who will one day be a full on counselor, or therapist, or psychiatrist…I dunno, one of those. He is doing some practicum hours at the program I go to for help and I had the option of seeing him for sessions. It took a while but I eventually decided to give it a try.

We were talking today and he presented me with a challenge. I tend to link exercise (specifically, going to the gym) with food. If I eat certain foods then I have to go to the gym, no matter what, to work it off. The challenge is to break that connection. Also, I always do 30 minutes of cardio then weight work. He wants to see what happens if I don’t do the cardio, or if I lessen it, because the cardio is directly linked to my need to burn off what I ate.

I am not overly comfortable with either of these challenges, but I don’t think he’d suggest them if they were harmful, so I figured I might try.

I took a look at my watch around 8pm and realized I hadn’t eaten since, well, a lot earlier, and what I ate was something that would be classified as a snack only if I was being generous. I hadn’t exactly planned for today to be a “no eating” day, it just sorta turned out like that. And before you get all “uh-huh, yeah right, heard that one before!” I swear it is the truth.

So I had a dilemma. I was silently congratulating myself for getting so far in to the day on so few calories and thinking I’d make some tea to help ease my way through the rest of the night when I realized that was not pro-recovery thinking. sigh. I tried to think of what to do instead, I mean obviously the opposite of not eating is eating, but what, and how much, and do I really want to?

When I don’t eat for most of the day, or eat very little, I feel…proud…like I have accomplished something. I feel like if I eat something than all that work I put in to not eating (if it was a planned thing) will be wasted. If it wasn’t done on purpose, I feel like this unexpected boon of a calorie deficit should not be ruined by eating something.  It’s like…I managed to do something a lot of people don’t do, and this thing that I did, this not eating, is getting me closer to my goal of being skinnier, so why throw that success out the window just because pro-recovery people think I should eat more often.

Does that make any sense? I’m probably not explaining it well…

So I’m sitting in my living room, trying to decide what to eat, and how much, when I glance at my tea mug and see my glass of apple juice sitting beside it.

I don’t drink my calories.

The exception to that being when I am sick and I have apple juice. I actually really like apple juice but it is a thing only allowed when I am sick, and not a little sniffle sick, but full on sick.

When I left work Monday that is where I thought I was heading. So many people at my work are sick, suuuuper sick, and I left work with a sore throat, congestion, and a general feeling of ugh. So I stocked up on kleenex with lotion in them, throat lozenges, DayQuil, and some apple juice. I ended up not getting a sick as anticipated, which is a good thing, just some congestion, tiredness, and minor body aches. Thing is, this means no apple juice.

The glass of juice I poured earlier in the day was from when I had just got home, made some tea, poured a glass of juice, and sat and relaxed with a book. I thought when I sat my body would realize it wasn’t being forced to do anything anymore and would sink in to sickness.

It didn’t.

Which again, is a good thing, but now I have this juice and I can’t drink it.

Or can I?

If this had happened in the past and I decided to drink it the trade off would have been one of two things:

(1) drink the juice and go to the gym

(2) drink the juice and don’t eat anything else the rest of the night

There is no other option, if I drink calories then something has to be done to mitigate the damage.

This time I decided to try something new. Why not drink the juice and not go to the gym aaaaand eat something?

Could I do that? Is that allowed? Is this a thing that can be done?

I’m sure other people drink glasses of juice and still eat dinner and don’t go rushing off to the gym..right?

So…maybe I could also.

It took some coaxing, some lifting of the glass but not quite making it to my mouth, then trying again, before it happened, but eventually, I drank the juice.

Then I went to the bathroom and worked really hard at not throwing it up.

Then, after not throwing it up, or running off to the gym, I made myself something to eat, something that had all the food groups. Practically a miracle.

And now I am sitting here, trying not to focus on the food in my stomach, the laxatives and various other supplements in my cupboard, or my packed and always ready to go gym bag.

Fuck.

Why is this so hard? Should this be so hard? I don’t think this should be so hard. But I find it incredibly hard. I’m such a wimp, finding something like this hard. What kind of challenge is this, really, in the grand scheme of things? This is a thing normal people do every-fucking-day. If they can do it then so can I…right?

Survival

I don’t drink alcohol. I used to. Not in an alcoholic type of way, but it was getting to be a bit too much too often so I stopped.

After I hadn’t had a drink for a long time (a couple years) I was with some friends and we drank, and I drank a lot. I mean…A. Lot! I thought it was a one time deal, we were partying after all, and I was still able to hold my own in the drinking department, so no biggy, right?

Well, wrong. It opened a can of worms and I found myself drinking a bit more often. So I stopped. Again.

Then 2016 came and was a year of hell. I was having a shitty time at my team practices, my self esteem plummeted, I was binge eating all the time, most every part of my life was in shambles. I started to want to drink. So I did. After practice I would stop at a liquor store and buy so much alcohol the person would make a comment about how I must be going to a party. I just played along and let them think that, but in reality it was all for me. I had some guidelines, don’t go to work or practice drunk, don’t drink and drive, don’t text when drinking. Not exactly the strictest of rules. *rolls eyes*

Somewhere along the way I realized all this drinking wasn’t helping. The calories I was ingesting from drinking were insane. I was feeling like crap whenever I wasn’t drinking. When I drank I would eat more, so even more calories going in me.

I didn’t like that I was reliant on drinking to get through a day. So I stopped. Again.

I realized I couldn’t socially drink, I’m not good at stopping after one drink. It’s not that I don’t know where the line is for when I should stop. It is just that I don’t stop. Drinking became an all-or-nothing type of thing for me, so I put it in the “no more” category and figured that was that.

Only, by stopping drinking I took away a coping mechanism, and something had to fill that void. That something became my eating disorder. I started engaging in my eating disorder symptoms way more. Like, waaaaaay more.

So here I am, in treatment for my eating disorder, oh so slowly taking away using my ED as a coping mechanism and what happens? Christmas happens.

Christmas, the time when all the things that could possibly happen, happen. Christmas, when having coping mechanisms in place is a vital thing for survival.

My survival this Christmas didn’t come at the hands of healthy coping mechanisms. It came from drinking.

sigh.

I drank. A lot. For days.

I spent three days at a constant buzzed level, not so drunk it was obnoxious to others, or even super noticeable. Just drunk enough that I was fun to be around, at ease, funny, and able to eat in front of others without stress.

At the time it seemed brilliant. I was able to be the way everyone wanted me to be and I wasn’t engaging in my eating disorder behaviours. Sure I spent a solid 20 minutes staring at laxatives and weight loss supplements one night, wondering if I should buy some because I stupidly thought I would be ok and didn’t bring my own, but I didn’t buy them. I at least managed that. But it was like, not buying them, telling myself I was not going to use my ED to get me through the upcoming days, broke a dam in my brain and out gushed the idea of drinking to get me through. After all, I had to survive somehow, right?

I’m trying to decide if drinking to survive was a bad thing. I’m really not sure. I mean, lots of people drink, what’s the big deal? And it got me through some hard days, so that’s good, right? It’s just, I’m pretty sure if I tell my counsellor what I did this will end up in the category of “not a good thing” and it’ll become an issue. Where as, if I don’t tell them, I can keep drinking in my arsenal of ways to survive tough shit.

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An Achievement

Something to celebrate, a small achievement, but one I am proud of.

Though, I don’t know how best to describe it and I don’t post pictures of myself on here so not like I can show you…lemme try to explain…

You know when you lay down on your back and lift your head to look down the length of your body to see how flat and bony it looks?

Well, when I got home today I stripped out of my clothes in order to put on some cozy sweats but I lay down on the bed first. As I was laying on the bed in only my underwear I started feeling my ribs and hips with my hands.

No, I wasn’t feeling myself up or anything, I just like to test out my bones, see if they are getting more prominent. I don’t really see myself as I am most of the time so I find I can get a better idea of how much I am losing (or heaven forbid, gaining!) if I feel without looking.

Anyways!

My hip bone felt bonier, I was laying on my side though so it doesn’t really count. So I rolled over onto my back and was feeling my hips and thought “yup, they do feel more pronounced” so I decided to chance it and I looked down the length of my body to take a look at my hips.

Normally when I do this all I see if fat so I don’t like doing this.

Today though I noticed my rib cage is sticking out farther than my breasts (don’t take that as being too impressive, my bra was off and my boobs were flattened from gravity, stupid gravity, sigh) but the big thing, the exciting thing, the thing I am proud of is that there was a gap between my skin and my panties because my panties were held aloft from my body by my hips.

I had a panty gap!

Which I don’t know if that is what it is actually called but who the fuck cares? I have one!

Aaaaaand since my explanation makes nooooo sense I’m gonna try to find a pic…

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Ok so see in the picture above how the waistband isn’t touching the torso cuz the hipbones stick out? That is what mine are doing now!

Only I don’t look as good as in this picture cuz this girl is way skinnier than me. But hey, I’m getting there! *crosses fingers*

I’ve been getting better with keeping my calories low and my binges less frequent. I think I sorta inadvertently reset when my friend died. I was so upset that I lost my appetite completely and when it started to come back I was better able to be ruthless about not giving in to it.

I’m going to have to be extra strict for the next week or so as I hurt my knee and can’t run until it is a bit more stable. I’m going to try the bike at the gym tomorrow, see if I can manage that ok, if so then I guess that’ll be my cardio for a while, which sucks balls cause I get a way better workout from running (even though I hate running with a passion) but it is either take it easy for a week and then be ok or push myself and hurt my knee even more which then prevents me from working out at all, for months. It has happened. It is horrible. I really can’t go through that again.

I think I’ll be able to maintain the strictness though, now that I have that panty gap, it’ll be great motivation. After all, I just got it, I don’t want to lose it!