My Sweet Place

Random words

2011-06-18T13:58:00.002+01:00

I don't really throw up anymore...maybe once in a very blue moon. I can and do eat lots of food and keep it inside of me. This means I am still larger than I would like to be, but the joy of being able to eat what I want, not craving an ocean of it, and not throwing it up afterward just about surpasses that misery. Almost.

I see a therapist on Monday mornings. I reaallly do not like her. She is obnoxious, but smart, and I am desperate just to have someone remotely affordable to talk to about my body issues aside from poor N.

I think I am getting there, to recovery land, after eight years of this crap. It feels good.

This year

2011-01-11T07:03:00.002Z

11/1/11
What a fun-looking date (in UK format).

Two-thousand and ten was fine. It was good management of a hard year. So much for journaling in 2010, though. My New Year’s Resolutions I wrote up on the first of last year (to make decisions as I would want my ideal self to make them; to listen to my body) were not exactly actively pursued, but more of subconsciously attempted, and their ethos became more subtly ingrained in my mindset. As for becoming more domestic and crafty, I have become more ‘domestic’ in that I clean as I go about living, and it is becoming less of a chore, and can more easily force myself to cook when I get home from work. Time for crafts has not exactly manifested. For the year that it was, I am content with this. Let’s be honest in that my ‘dream job’ has turned into anything but; I helplessly watched a man die and still have disturbing, bloody visions; I miss my family more than words can express, and we have no tangible exit plan for moving back to the US. Despite it all, I am making progress in recovery from bulimia. When I do throw up, it is less often after urges to eat everything I possibly can, and instead happens more often after eating too much of the one food/meal I had planned to have but simply could not stop eating. The impulses have lessened to an extent (although they are still quite vividly there). It is very slow progress, but progress none the less. I can leave fatty, carby meals in my body and not let it ruin my day. And N is happy with the progress his new company is making. It makes me happy to see him excited.

This, however, this 2011, is supposed to be my first ‘easy’ year. My first non-hard year since 2005. My New Year’s Resolutions this year are to write at least every other day. To actively make time for this writing and to complete three short stories. And when possible, to journal. I think journaling every day or whenever possible is great for me as well…if I can force myself to do it.

Fighting

2010-11-13T15:38:00.002Z

I know I have not written in this space for a while. Things have not been terrific since I last wrote here. I was doing well for the first five months of the year, and then June happened. I feel guilty for letting myself fall back into such ugly, weak, patterns of using food to comfort, but June was awful. I can't quite even conjure up the sickening feelings I experienced that month anymore. I basically watched someone die, someone I spoke with every day, someone I worked with. It was tragic and awful, and so quick. Life is so delicate. Although it was bloody and so real, I felt guilty for letting it affect me, while his poor family were the ones to live with the awfulness. I have no excuse for reverting back to the comforts of stuffing myself and throwing up. Sure I will never forget the blood and the gurgles and white/blue hands and the broken body, but I still thank God his wife and two teenage daughters, so cold and numb when I hugged them at the funeral, never have to remember any of that. So after June, and after I no longer felt sick at the sight of blood, the old behaviors continued. This week, or the past four days, have actually been ok. We'll see how long this lasts. I wish I could be more enthusiastic. I am going home for christmas and more than anything, I want a christmas focused on people, not food. I want to enjoy the food, but to not let it control me. That's it I think.

Chubster

2010-06-06T20:51:00.002+01:00

I want to write something long and meaningful here, and I know I need to address some issues with myself, particularly regarding my brother's girlfriend and jealousy. I need to write this out because I think better when I see the words...not sure why, but it is so. I have to do my French homework though, because I missed last week's class. That's right, I am finally learning French! (It has been on my List of Things to Do in Life for far too long).

Throwing up has been about once a week to once every two weeks. Getting better still...but I have been depressed lately because I am over the weight at which I look my best; I can't seem to do anything about it, and it bugs the hell out of me. It's about four pounds, but it is noticeable because I am not that tall, and I KNOW my mother and sister will notice. I hate how they notice and always comment on my body.

Why do I care about these four pounds...it's the way I look, really, so if it were two or 10, and they had the same effect, I would be equally frustrated. I think it is because I feel sloppy with the way I look right now. No wiggle room to gain over a holiday period or vacation. Literally there is no wiggle room in my clothes either; it feels dangerous. And I do not look and feel my best...maybe that's what bugs me most - I want to be my best self, physically.

I need to write more, but it will have to wait. grr.

Melissa

2010-04-21T23:09:00.003+01:00

I have never seen a truer, more moving portrayal of bulimia in the media. This was my life. The rolls of cookie dough. The garbage cans. I am in tears reading this, but I have no where else to post it.

http://www.nytimes.com/2010/04/22/fashion/22Melissa.html?pagewanted=1&hp

You go through the garbage because either a) your body is telling you that you are starving or b) as her father says, you need the food. you need the release of the binge. It is heroin.

I can control the urges better now, and I can prevent them. But it is like managing a chronic disease. I wish Melissa had been taught to manage it, and that she had the strength to do so.

And I wish so badly that EDs and their prevention were taught in schools the same way drugs and smoking are. I was such a good kid. I never would have started if they had warned us about EDs as the addictions they are.

So-so

2010-04-11T10:34:00.003+01:00

I know I should write something. But nothing seems to change drastically.

I would say I still eat too much and throw up about once every two to three days. In between though, I do see changes. Changes in what I can accept, in what I'll keep in my body. Changes in how I perceive other people. There is a VERY skinny girl who sits near me at work. A year or more ago I would have stared at her constantly...envying, wondering how she does it. But now I see people like her objectively, for some reason. I see that her legs are too thin, her arms too twig-like...her body too long, masculine and rectangular. I see that honest to God, I like my own body better. She may have thinner parts, but given a choice, I would not choose it over mine. I don't even think about what she eats or how she does it in more than a passing (maybe once a week) sort of curiosity. I used to only see skinniness in other people, and block out everything else.

I have recently started a new job (what I imagined for years would be my Dream Job, although now I am not so sure...but it is fine all in all), and the stress of all of the newness has me resorting to food more often than I may have otherwise. But I think I am doing better overall...I think. I am gradually having an easier time stopping eating when I know I am full. Sometimes it still doesn't work, but sometimes (maybe 1/3 of the time?) it does. A year ago it NEVER worked. This has to mean something, right?

For the first time in four years, I baked cookies without eating 1/4 of the batter and throwing up. I still probably ate the equivalent of a few cookies, but the success of being able to say I baked without making myself sick motivated me enough to keep it in my stomach. I think I truly earned the title CookieGirl for that one.

Yay for America

2010-03-22T10:04:00.003Z

So HAPPY about the health bill passing!!! I am still giddy inside. We are finally on our way to accepting that access to basic healthcare is a right, just as we treat education up through age 16, and just as all other OECD countries have accepted decades ago. I am so proud of my home country today.

My last lament on my body

2010-02-22T15:31:00.003Z

In an ideal world:

My torso would be longer
my ribcage smaller
my waist well-defined.

I would take an inch off the length of my super long thighs
My chest, though I love, I'd give it more rise

Fix the bones that stick out
on the sides of my toes
put a bit back on top
my over-corrected nose

My eyes would be bigger
and my whole head, too
eyelashes darker and iris more blue

I'd develop a booty, cute round and girly,
My limp hair I'd defrizz, make lively and curly.

But then I'd grow old
just the same as before -
waist covered up
boobs down to the floor

And what would it matter
how lovely I was?
(or how I was not and made not a fuss)
over waist size and mirrors
scales and the such

Instead I wrote, I played and thrived, in
a body I took care of, in a life I survived
without lament
over things I cannot change

Epiphany...not exactly genius

2010-02-21T15:16:00.004Z

So I just realised that the days when I feel insatiably hungry, and when stuffing myself and throwing up seems inevitable (and usually is), are very often days directly following one or two when I have "done well" or eaten what I considered to be a perfect amount of healthy food.

I guess this "perfect amount" is too little? But I look so much better when I am three pounds less than this. Why can't I just lose three pounds again without being being bulimic?

Has anyone had success accepting your body above the weight where you consider it to look your personal best? I'm thinking what I considered to be my best might be below my natural set point. craptastic.

The good and the bad

2010-02-06T17:22:00.002Z

I don’t know how I am doing with the fight against big, bad bulimia. It’s so hard to tell how I am going to do on any given day…my intention is always good. Some days are much better than others. But the broader picture needs more of an analysis, I think. It’s time to check in with myself and put it down in words. Here’s how things have been. First, the bad:

- I still binge and throw up on average about twice a week. (This leaves me meeting the DSM frequency criterion for bulimia. I hate this).

About half the time, this is a planned binge, i.e. I am stressed, frustrated, or angry; I know N will be leaving the house for a while, and I want nothing more than to eat as much of whatever I want until I am so full that I can just get rid of it all. It is the most glorious, freeing feeling in the world. Why oh why is my stomach so big that it needs so much food to feel pleasure? The other times, I start out with no intention whatsoever of this happening. I will just either a) start eating something when I am not hungry, and then of course I have no idea when to stop or b) I am so starving that when I finally eat, I simply cannot stop when I’ve had enough food. I wish my hunger cues were not still so screwed up. This happens some times out of NOWHERE. I’ll be fine, and then suddenly, my head is throbbing and I am going to faint if I don’t eat something.

- My body image is…so-so. I am in a healthy weight range. I still haven’t completely accepted the weight I gained since my wedding (Aug 2008). I know I was too thin. All of my girlfriends I hadn’t seen in a few months were commenting, in various degrees of eloquence, “wtf is wrong with your weight…you look like you’re 12?” But oh, oh, oh. Let me just reminisce…my legs were so gorgeous! The rest of me, not so much. However, at that point I was throwing up my dinner every night like clockwork. I don’t want that life back. I do like that I have more of an hourglass shape now. I’ll never have a super little middle, but there’s nothing I can do about that. It’s muscle and bone structure and not going to budge. But N loves my body (although he always does, God bless him), and he knows I am disappointed about my legs so whenever I’m undressing or he spies the legs, he's always commenting, “OOo cute legs!!” It’s almost funny, except I know he really thinks so. Thank goodness for men sometimes.

- I get depressed that I care so much about my body shape. I have SO much more to contribute to the world than looking a certain way. After you die, no one cares what you looked like. It’s all about relationships and how you lived your life. The fact that I still think about the thickness of my waist and thighs every day is pathetic and immature, especially since I know many people would consider mine a decent body. I need to overcome this before I have children.

- Managing this addiction is a hell of a lot of work, and it still needs active management. This entails constant checking in with myself regarding hunger levels and emotions (do I foresee being extra stressed or frustrated today? If so, should I make advance emergency plans to keep myself away from food?), and planning ahead for events/travel. I long for the day when I don’t have to think of any of this anymore. God, I hope that day is possible.

- The mechanism in my esophagus that I ruined with this effing addiction (the muscle that keeps food in your stomach) seems to be permanently ruined. Even when I go for weeks without throwing up, the next time I do, I still only have to push on my stomach and up it all comes. My GP confirmed my fears and said he thinks this is permanent.

- Because of this, I still have to take a proton-pump inhibitor every two to three days. No one knows what the effects will be of taking these pills long term, as they are still relatively new and research on long term users has not yet been conducted.

Ok, now that I have thoroughly depressed myself, the good:

- Many times over the past few months, when I feel I have physically overeaten, I have been able to accept it and get on with my day. This used to be an absolute impossibility.

- I can eat dinner with my husband or have dessert before bed and keep it down. (loooove this).

- I have fallen in love with my boobs this past year. Have no idea what happened there.

- I can run better and better.

So, going forward, I am continuing to try to eat only until I am satisfied and to never let myself get too hungry. That seems to keep me stable. Monitoring and planning for my moods is a lot harder…because I LOVE binging so much. Gosh I wish I didn’t. It’s the most temporarily effective coping mechanism I have. But I am really, really trying right now.
CG

Secret Number Three

2010-01-17T09:59:00.006Z

As much as I try, I cannot bring myself to like my mother in law. I pretend that I do; I act like I do in her presence; I tell myself that I have forgiven her. I pray to be able to forgive her. But the rock of dislike and distrust remains in my heart, and I don't know how to move it. Forgive your enemies and all that, says the bible. It never says how.

To start with the basics, I always felt she was terribly difficult to connect with on a personal level. Even before the wedding and its preparation, I felt I could never connect with her. We did things together, went shopping, I helped her with chores, etc., but she never seemed to answer questions or take the conversation in a direction that I, as an American, would have had I wanted to get close to someone. I think about half of this is cultural, about half of it is just the way she is. My own mother has felt the same thing in communicating with her.

For example, if I ask about when she and N's father were dating, or how she felt about having two boys and no daughters, or anything else girly I might ask to form a bond with her, she'll answer briefly, vaguely, and then immediately jump on any part of the sentence or response that allows her to go off in a different (read: boring) direction, e.g. "Yes, Will and I had our first date at the restaurant in ____ ...oh, but the village is in all the tourist books now, and it's not nearly as nice as it used to be. Have you been any where else around here that the tourist books write about?" Whereas I might have, in answering that same question, taken the opportunity to say something like: "Yes, Will and I had our first date at the restaurant in ____ ... I wasn't sure I liked him all that much right away. When did you know you and N were in love?" You know, something to actually bond about. I'm not sure if this makes
sense. It gets extremely frustrating when I am actually trying to understand something and not just picking at straws for topics of conversation.

So that - the poor communication and her inability to know how to or want to bond with me - is just the foundation. On it's own, you know, I could probably deal with it and might even have found it a charming eccentricity. However, previous events have skewed this perception...namely, planning for the wedding.

Originally N and I had set the date for August 2009. When we told his parents that we were planning to live together for the two years prior while I worked on my masters degree the first year and then planned the wedding the following year, they apparently thought living together before marriage was embarrassing. They immediately volunteered to plan the wedding for us. We could get married in their village the very next summer (2008), N's Mum...gosh she needs a name doesn't she...let's call her Lydia (close enough). Lydia had lots of contacts to save money on flowers, etc., and I could focus solely on my studies. It sounded really good in theory, but as it turned out, them planning the wedding meant they expected certain things to be done in certain ways.

From the food: "what do you mean you don't want a traditional fruitcake?" (gag) "CG, no one serves anything other than champagne when guests arrive" to the schedule: "A first what? I've never heard of a first dance." and "The bride always comes down the aisle first, followed by her bridesmaids." Basically, they made me feel like crap whenever I suggested what I wanted. She would question my decisions in front of other people. She took me to the flower shop and left me alone to talk with florist, which I did and thought was a nice move. But then when she returned, she asked about my decisions, and said directly to the florist, "And that will look good, will it?" When touring this country house for the reception, the lady who owned it was telling us what other couples had done and pointed out a table where people often set up personal pictures of family or other decorations. Immediately Lydia cut in, "Now remember CG, you're not going to have much time to plan." Translation: "We're not having any personal photos at the wedding."

She is full of vague, manipulative comments like that. And this was all about her caring what other people would think of her. I know it. The icing on the awful-mother-in-law cake, so to say, was the drama surrounding the invitations. I didn't even want her involved, and knew involving his parents would bring drama to begin with, British vs. American spellings, etc. I also thought it would be another nice way for my own mom to be involved (as she was feeling a little left out) if she and I chose them and printed them in New York. As it turns out, the month before I was going home to do this, she found a lump in her breast. Thank god, non-metastatic, but it needed to be removed none the less. With the worry, the radiation treatment, and everything else (my dad's appendix burst soon after!) I knew wedding invitations were the last thing they needed to worry about.

Lydia very kindly (or so I thought) volunteered to take the sample we had made, and have them printed in the UK. Well, that wasn't exactly what she had in mind. First, they wanted to change the wording. "In England, it is almost invariably done this way..." so whatever, I had had enough of her at this point and let her do what
she wanted to the wording and names. Then she very nicely (again, so I thought) sent us samples of the papers we could choose and different types of ribbon we could put on top, as we were going to do in NY. N and I had a lot of fun making the decisions together.

So then the invitations arrived, and Lydia decided to bring them to lunch with my mom and I while my mom was visiting. She hands me one box, but then keeps one for herself, saying "I decided to get a few without the border and without the ribbon, because, you know, old men don't really like that sort of thing." My mom and I sat there, speechless. I took and opened the box she was holding, and inside were not just a few, but exactly half of the invitations without any of the pretty choices we had made. They looked like invitations to a Hilton hotel conference. She immediately changed the topic and went on to something else.

I don't know what hurt more, the fact that she lied to us in sending the sample choices for us to choose, the fact that she didn't say anything and did this completely behind our backs, or the fact that she knowingly took advantage of my mom being ill to go and do this her own way. Just typing all of this out brings back all of the hurt and resentment I still feel toward them for all of this. Of course, I had N confront them about it, and she admitted she thought "the ribbon was tacky." She did not apologize. Many other similar things happened while planning the wedding.

On top of it all, she is stubborn, self-righteous and close-minded. She always comments on "this is the way we do it here" sort of things regarding everything from the timing of having dinner on any given night, to what color we should be painting the walls of our own flat. I think if I have to have children anywhere near her I will shoot myself.

To confuse things further, she actually does random, nice things for me.

For example, she knows I don't like caffeinated tea at night, so she keeps herbal teas, even though no one else drinks it. And she always gets me very generous, personal birthday/holiday presents. I don't understand, why go through the trouble to do these things when she's just going to make me feel like crap the rest of the time?

So I don't know. We pretend everything is fine when we are together, but I cannot shake the feeling that I have seen her true colors, and she has yet to prove me wrong. It's tough. That's the story with N's mum. That is my third secret.

6 January

2010-01-06T21:16:00.004Z

This is me writing. Can't seem to come up with a more interesting title right now. I still have an hour of work to do and really want to go to bed! It is my own fault for procrastinating though, I am sure. I have had some awful virus for the past week, and my stomach hurts whenever I eat. It hurts now. My husband is away until tomorrow evening, and I hate being alone. hmmm. I am not sad, just stressed.

My beautiful long black leather gloves fell out of my pocket, or were dropped, at some point during one of my many walks through the English countryside over Christmas week (that sounds pretty...it's not, think calf-deep mud and dodging cow poo with every step while trying to seem cheerful), and someone found them in a field and returned them to the village post office, where N's mum saw them and thought they looked like my size. Wow. I thought they were gone forever, eaten by labradors (or gleefully usurped by some fashion-loving farm lady).

I really need to do some work, so that I can go to bed, get up and go to the gym for an hour and return in time to start more work.

hahaha I can't believe I am typing out such a boring monologue for anyone in the world to randomly come across. Journaling is supposed to be good for you, right?

1 January 2010

2010-01-01T10:18:00.002Z

“Live the life you want to live.” That’s my New Year’s resolution. I always have these images, fantasies almost, of things I would be doing, decisions I would be making, if I were being my best possible self. And I berate myself with them. So for example, simply stopping eating when I’m physically (as opposed to mentally) satisfied, cleaning up my apartment as I go along instead of leaving it until Saturday, calling my grandparents or friends in the U.S. even though it is so late here and I am so tired, or sometimes even just listening to my body and going to bed when I am tired instead of staying up reading things I could easily read another time - my best self would do these things. I know they are possible, but something...laziness, habit, addiction...something seems to frequently overpower my desired decisions. My resolution is that when it comes to making a decision (however small) I think I might regret, I will first ask: “What do I wish I felt like doing? What would my best self do right now?” And DO it, no matter how uncomfortable it seems. Of course, I don’t expect this to work constantly, but I think it is a healthy frame of mind for me and may be just what I need to push myself through the cloud of self doubt and remorse that often hangs over my actions.

So, I just had my breakfast, a big piece of chocolate pudding pie and a big cappuccino (delicious), and I am stopping there. In 15 minutes or so, I will get myself ready to go to the gym, I will not put it off until later “until the coffee kicks in” or “until my breakfast is fully digested” because I know those only lead to a) the coffee never fully kicking in and making me feel pumped for the gym and b) me eating more food because I eventually get hungry again, respectively. And this weekend cycle repeats until it is evening and I finally force myself to go the gym, grumpy and angry for not going earlier.

My other ambitions for 2010, or even, “positive decisions I hope I will make more of,” include being more domestic (cooking ahead of time, crafting, and keeping organized around the apartment), and making time for writing. Yay for a new year.

Weekends

2009-09-21T19:38:00.004+01:00

I have such problems with weekends. And evenings, occasionally, after work. It is evening as I am typing this, and I think I will be OK today. (Spell-checker wants to capitalize my ok. OK. It feels like shouting, although I know it is technically correct). Had a bit more dinner than I would have liked, but not enough that I cannot think of anything other than throwing it up. I am proud of myself today. I hope tomorrow will go similarly well.

Weekends, on the other hand, for the past two months I would say, have been disasters. Throwing up on both Saturday and Sunday, usually. Unable to stick to any meal plan. Complete lack of regulation. I can see through writing this out that it most probably has something to do with my associating weekends with relaxation and spontaneity, and work days with obligation and order (following rules). I hate order. I hate have-tos. So this ability to stick to orderly, "successful" eating during the work week is an accomplishment in itself. There was a time I could not.

I can see though that allowing myself to eat orderly on Saturdays and Sundays, while still feeling as though I can enjoy my days off to the fullest extent, will be a challenge.

Next weekend, however, we will be visiting N's parents, which always brings with it its own host of eating challenges. Cue secret number three.

So far so good

2009-09-15T21:59:00.002+01:00

I managed the healthy eating day almost entirely...ate a bit too much once I got home from work, but I am still proud of myself. Today, a company lunch meant the extra sandwiches and chewy, chocolate-chip cookies were staring me in the face all afternoon. I ended up having a big mayonaisey chicken salad sandwich and two cookies instead of my planned food. But know what? I wanted them, I did not eat past being satisfied, and they stayed in my body (!!). I think they even enabled a more energetic workout in the evening.

Hoping for continued successes...

Secret number two

2009-09-13T21:17:00.005+01:00

I hate doing things I "have to do." This includes rules, self-imposed or otherwise, societal expectations, and any other sort of "supposed-to" you can possibly think of. This is especially hard when I set these rules myself, like, for example, the I-must-now-write-on-this-pretty-pink-page- instead-of-acting-on-harmful-impulses rule. I am doing it though, and I am not going to throw up the slice of N's pizza I just consumed after already breaking the I-will-not-eat anything-else-for-the-rest-of-the-night rule. I am resisting temptations to type "I suck" or something similar... because I do not. I am having a rough few weeks, but I can pull myself out of this. My throat will heal. The weight will come off. My ravenous hunger will subside.

Tomorrow I must detox myself from all of the garbage I ate this weekend. I will eat clean, simple, nourishing food, and not too much. I must understand that this is a beneficial rule to follow. There is no value in breaking it. I will feel good physically, and I will feel proud of myself. I can do this. I will be back as soon as it gets tough (as it inevitably will). See you tomorrow, pretty pink page.

Secret number one

2009-09-13T09:31:00.008+01:00

I am 26 years old. I still struggle with bulimia nervosa.

Seven years ago, when I stood in a bathroom stall of my college dorm debating whether or not to stick my finger into the back of my throat in a desperate attempt to expel the Dominos pizza I had just put into my already post-freshman-15 body, I would never have imagined the mechanism could become so addicting. And so easy. Had I known such a simple action could lead to the semi-permanent disruption of my hunger and satiety cues, a vicious, self-perpetuating cycle of blood-sugar highs and lows, distrust of my body, and constant emotional turmoil, would I still have tried it?

Today, I would say no.

My teeth are always sensitive, despite forcefully rinsing them with water and chewing calcium carbonate immediately after any 'mistakes'. My weight is forever fluctuating, no matter what I eat, or how hard I exercise. I want to feel hungry and full as a normal person would. I am sick of guessing and sick of being wrong.

Today I have three or four pounds to lose, and I am off to an awful start. I had a bad day yesterday to begin with (bad day = eating a ton of stuff and throwing it up...usually resulting in over consumption of hundreds of extra sugary calories that are absorbed immediately). And then I had some homemade milk-chocolate and Guinness ice cream with my husband right before bed. I don't care what anyone says about it not mattering what time of day you eat, "it's the total number of calories that matters," blah blah; it apparently matters to my body. Whenever I eat later in the evening, I gain weight, or at least no way in hell could I lose.

In some ways, I see the ability to eat the ice cream at night as a victory in itself. There was a time I was paralyzed with fears of sugar itself, and of "night calories" and the like, and yes, I was thinner, but I would not go back there for anything. A cage, I think a better writer than I once referred to it. The wardens may still be chasing me, but I will NEVER get back in that cage.

So anyway, today I have already had a bunch of last night's dinner left-overs, two cappuccinos, a ryvita cracker with chocolate spread and a sugar-free dark chocolate bar. Awesome. Oh, and it is 10 a.m. There was a time I would have thrown all of this up immediately. Especially since I want to lose 4 pounds. But I know how I will feel after, and I know it will screw up my blood-sugar levels for the rest of the day, and my gym performance in an hour. The ability, too, to admit, 'yup, this sucks', but to accept it and try to learn from it instead of immediately giving in to the addiction is also a small victory. Oh also, N (my dear husband) wants to go out to a new pub for lunch, which means I will inevitably consume more than I want then as well. I don't know why I don't care more about it. I think I am just resigned to it at this point because I have been promising him for the last few weekends that we could go out to a pub for lunch, and my love for him is stronger than my vanity (thank God, again not sure if this was always so).

I hate trying to lose weight. It is as though the confusion, and anger at myself for gaining in the first place, corrupts all of my thoughts. The ability to focus on anything else is diminished. My thighs are so horribly thick right now. Deep breath though; I have until Thanksgiving to lose this. That's over two months away.

Edit: Ridiculousness. I went out to go to the gym with N., but ended up stopping at a home goods store first to get some baskets. I took them back home, and ended up eating the rest of the ice cream and other stuff and throwing it up. I am in such a rut. Time to run for real and get myself back on track.