I saw myself in the mirror earlier tonight. I am fat.
I deserve it, too. I've eaten too much, I've eaten the wrong things. I've regressed and turned back into the person I was when I started this blog, a person who blockades feelings with food, a person who eats feelings for lunch and dinner. (But weirdly, not breakfast. I'm not awake enough at breakfast to be aware of my feelings, I guess.)
I don't know what to do. Wait. I do know what to do. I need to eat less, exercise more. I need to write about it.
I don't know more than that, but I know that. I think writing helped me untangle myself from the mess I'd gotten into and now that I'm tangled up again, I put my trust in writing again.
This is what I think. I think that success for me involves no cheating, no exceptions, no coddling myself.
I really, really, really hate how I look. I hate how I feel. I hate my clothes, I hate my hair. I hate everything, really. I am in a mood.
What came first? The mood or the binge? The mood prompts me to binge. The binge puts me in a dark mood. It's a horrible circle and the only thing to do is grab ahold of it and wrench it into submission. All I know is that I have to cut sugar. It has to be complete, absolute, no half-hearted attempt. Otherwise, sugar wins.
I hesitate to post this. I'm kind of thinking about saving it until tomorrow. Maybe I will have a change of heart by morning.
It's embarrassing to be fat again. Everyone maintains a tactful silence on the subject, of course, but I can hear their thoughts. Oh, she looks so heavy. What a shame. She gained that weight back. I know. People so easily discuss your weight loss with you, but never your weight gain. It would almost be a relief to discuss the weight gain--then I could explain about my crazy year, about my full-time job, about the reasons I stopped exercising, which seem valid, yet, really? Let's talk priorities.
I fell off my priority list. I'm not entirely sure I still have a spot on my list, but I have to push myself back up on the list. My back hurts. My clothes don't fit. My jaw has been replaced by an extra chin. I hate it. I hate how I look. Hate. Hate. Hate.
Okay. Well. I guess I'll be here again sooner rather than later. I can't face another season of being fat.
