I wasn’t going to post today. I wasn’t even supposed to be home (I was planning on heading partyward this evening). In fact, I was thinking that my next post would be a long overdue eats report tomorrow so it’d be all positive and full of accomplishments, but today has been really difficult and really testing for me so I thought I’d get it out of me and try to get some perspective. There will be numbers in this post so be wary if that’ll bother you.
Today started badly. I was out last night, then ended up spending a few hours cotching with the Mam when I got in, so didn’t wake up today till around noon. I know this shouldn’t really bother me, but when you have the looming “Shit – I have so much eating to fit into so little time” feelings, if can make your whole day tense. Part of you wants to make a big effort to eat a huge breakfast to catch up a little so you can maybe drop a snack and get back on time, but another part of you hates the idea as that’d mean eating scary food combos in one go, so you can’t really win the scenario in a mentally settled way. For the past few days, I’ve been trying to make the move to real cow’s whole milk rather than unsweetened soy. It’s not something I do comfortably due to the calories and fat content, but I’ve come to the opinion that actually, it’s the best kind of milk for me right now so I’m just going to go for it. To make matters harder (but better obviously), I decided to have to normal sized slices of seedy toast with Spectuloos instead of my usual muffin with Nutella with my cereal and that really whacked the calorie total into seriously uncomfortable territory for me and it actually effected me more than I’d expected, especially because it made me so full. The fact that I’d drunk last night made this even worse as alcohol always seems to destroy my appetite.
Despite my discomfort, to get back on track with my eating times a little, I had to snack an hour later. I was still painfully full and uncomfortable from my breakfast choices, so I went for this Tesco finest white chocolate and raspberry yogurt in the fridge. I thought it’d be good because it packed a calorific punch due to all the heavy whipping cream in it and the fact that it was small and soft. However, it just freaked me out more and left me feeling even more uncomfortable. It seriously added to my internal fat intake count and made my brain start to seriously freak out. I felt awful.
I think part of the reason food was so hard for me today was because I’d bought bagels, smoked salmon and full fat cream cheese for the obvious, but incredibly tasty, lunchtime treat and in my mind, I’d planned to have that today. Bagels, salmon and cream cheese are all major fear foods of mind due to the fat and general calorie content of each seperate item, but I brought them a couple of days ago when I was having a strong moment in my recovery and I didn’t want them to go stale/off, so I knew I had to at least try today (I really hate food waste). However, as I was so late, I was in a rush to get on my plans for the day and still so stuffed physically and mentally unsettled that, although I did manage the bagel, I missed out the rest of my lunch. Salad with dressing, crisps, yogurt and fruit all got ditched to soothe my mind and get me out the front door. I felt horrible, but I figured I’d get more hungry soon enough and could pick something up whilst I was out as I was heading to Westfield and there’s bare food there for whatever mood you’re in.
Now, this is where my day starts to get ridiculous. It was a stupid idea really, especially considering how distressed I was already becoming about my eating today, but I was getting antsy. There are these jeans in River Island I absolutely love. They are skinny jeans with thick powder blue and white vertical stripes. I’ve been putting off buying them due to weight gain, but I’d been thinking about them so much I just thought I’d try them on, buy a size bigger then I am now and style them out till I grow. They only had one pair left, and they were a 12. I tried them on, along with some size 10 shorts in the same design, realised the 10 was way too big and the twelve was ridiculous, so figured I’d just head to Topshop and check out their stripey jeans.
Big fucking mistake.
Topshop has always been the barometer by which I size myself. I compare my measurements to their measurements, consider their jeans to be an accurate portrayal of my size and generally just use them as a way to monitor my weight gain/loss. Last time I went (only about two or three weeks ago), I tried on some shorts. The 10s were too big, the 8s were a little big and the 6s fit snuggly, so I figured I wouldn’t buy any shorts as I still had to grow and cursed myself for still fitting into a 6 then went on my way unphased. Today, they had some aces jeans with spaceships on them, but only in size 16 or size 8. I figured the 8s would fit, but I was completely wrong. I was bigger than an 8. I also tried on some stripped jeans in a 10, and they fit fine. This really, really got to me. I had to leave the shop as quickly as possible and promptly burst into tears and found a corner to sit on the floor and hide in. I was there for at least half an hour, just crying. On my own. In a shopping centre. Like a dick.
See, pre-eating disorder, I was a Topshop 32 inch waist, so a 14 in their jeans. I promised myself a long time ago I’d never look that dumpy and horrible again, and considering I’m still gaining weight, that is a distinct possibility if right now I’m already a 10. I also think that a size 12 is really dumpy on me so basically hate the idea of that too. At this point, it didn’t matter that I’d tried on all my jeans and skirts the other day and fit into all but one pair of jeans I didn’t even buy (including the XS ones and some Topshop size 6 chinos) and many were still too big. Even so, I felt huge. I felt like an absolute failure at life and I just couldn’t cope with it. It was the first time in weeks I’ve serious considered restricting. I mean, I’ve thought about it a lot and I’ve wanted to, but today I was really actively considering it for the purposes of rapid weight loss, not because food just felt difficult. Now, it’ been meticulously planned to the extent where I actually think it would be really easy and actually quite comforting. So I sat there for a while, crying and looking like an idiot with eyeliner all down my face. Then I made possibly the worst decision I could have made in that scenario.
I went back to Topshop.
I tried on every single cut of skinny jeans in the shop (and a few pairs of shorts for good measure) in size 8 and size 10 so I could really know what size I was. The jeans I’d previously tried on were the Leigh kind, so were meant to be stretchy, but the patterns on them I think were like printed on, so they lost a lot of stretch. I therefore decided that it wasn’t truly representative of whether their sizing was store accurate, so I decided to check. And I really, really did. It took a long time but I got through each and every style of skinny jeans in the shop, along with a couple of types of hot pants. My testing paid off slightly seeing as I’ve now decided that I fit a size 8 snuggly, but could get away with a 10 now. Even in the normal, non-print Leigh jeans. I have gone up one size since Christmas. It still made me feel like shit because I’d gone up a size, and I still refused to buy any of the things I tried on, but I won’t lie, I wanted to die a little less. In my mind, a size 8 is still small, but a size 10 isn’t. A size 10 is normal size and I don’t want to be normal size, I want to be small. I want to be small because being small is pretty (I don’t apply this rule to anyone else. Just to me). I know it’s vain and I know it’s unhealthy for me and I know that I won’t be this small in a few weeks so I should just suck it up but it scares me. It’s fucking terrifying.
So to make myself feel better, I picked up a cardi I’ve had my eyes on for a few months from Primark and got some nang dark purple lipstick and stay put black eyeshadow from MAC as I’ve been after purple lips for ages and my usual Benefit eyeliner has been discontinued, then headed home. Retail therapy in every way.
This whole fiasco took a really long time and (apart from the time I spent on the floor), I’d been walking, with no food stops, for 5 and a half hours. All I’d had in over six hours was a black coffee, but because I was upset, my appetite had drifted even further afield and the last thing I wanted to do when I got home was eat. I made myself though, even though it made me cry (again. I swear I’m all tears and tantrums right now). It was a relatively safe meal (stir fry prawns with rice and veggies) though, which was entirely unhelpful as it meant I still had over 1000kcals to make up for after dinner. To be honest, I wasn’t sure I would, but I’ve been eating my evening snack for an hour now and it’s almost done. When it’s finished, yes I’ll feel monstrously sick, but at least I would have hit my target.
I’ve mostly been writing this to keep myself distracted from the food I’m eating and to keep myself from caving in to the million and one negative urges that are running through my head right now. I feel so sick it’s ridiculous. My self-esteem is pitiful right now. I’m staying home because I’m too fat for parties. I’m desperate to never be dumpy and big again and it kills me inside because I think I’m going to have to be because of my genetic bad luck. I hate that I have to be huge to be healthy. So many other people are healthy at smaller sizes than me. I hate hate hate it. I feel awful. I haven’t felt this distraught in a long time.
So today has been pretty bust recovery wise. I did manage to eat my calories, but in such a stupid way that I now just feel physically sick. My body image is critically low right now and I’m really not sure how much longer I can keep this up. I’m desperate to know my weight and considering buying a battery for my scales tomorrow, but I don’t think that’s actually wise. I’ll just hate the weight and want to lose it even more than I already do right now. I haven’t weighed myself in at least half a stone (at my last weigh in so nearly two weeks ago now). I’ve probably gained since then and it probably means I’m over nine stone and the idea of being over nine stone makes me want to die. I’m embarrassed to even type that weight. It’s an embarrassing weight really. I know I’m being dramatic, but as I’ve said before, my brain is Lord of the Overstatement and overstatements seem to be all I’ve got right now. I know full well that I haven’t been this big or heavy in an incredibly long time and I hate myself for this weight gain. Still no fucking period now though so on it goes. I’m so desperate for the horror that is periods now. I don’t ever want to reach my pre-anorexia weight again and if I’m over nine stone, it’s probably only about a stone away. I know this is all disordered and I know if I’m going to be healthy I just have to see what happens, but I’m struggling. A lot. I’m still having the odd good day, but it’s rapidly becoming the odd good day again, rather than the mostly good days I had been having. Today, I walked for way over my alloted two hours, which is bloody terrible really. I didn’t even try. I just walked and walked and couldn’t just not. I also measure ever aspect of my evening snack. I measured milk, weighed berries, weighed cereal. Apart from the cereal, I haven’t done any of this in months now. But today, it was back. Which is a bit of a fail.
I just hate my body. It makes me so upset. It’s not even legitimately small anymore. Even if I’m wrong in thinking it’s huge, you definitely couldn’t call it small. It’s disgusting. I can literally feel the excess tissue crawling under my skin.
I’m all doom and gloom right now. Sorry. I just feel like I’m starting to fall apart. I’m not ok right now. I’m really struggling to want to recover and I’m not entirely sure I can keep this up much longer.
I haven’t cried this much in a long time. Pathetic really.