That’s right, folks. Today didn’t suck. I think my mother was in a better than average mood. Could be because my father was home for the day. She hates to be alone for a single second. This morning I was greeted with both of them telling me how proud they were of me for doing such an excellent job losing the weight. Seriously? You have no idea. This will all change by evening, however. Keep reading, it gets better!
I did great eating. Only 69 calories. I really want to eat something now but I won’t. The damn cake is finally gone and I had NONE of it!!! Can I get a hallelujah. I even baked bread yesterday, oh it smelled so good. But I will have none of that either. I gave up bread and pasta for Lent. Or that’s what I claim. I can’t bear to eat more calories than I am able to work off at the gym. Bread and pasta pack those calories on like the subway during Friday rush hour. Not going to happen. My sister gave me a blow pop. I adore those things. I had to take it since she is the only one who knows about my <ahem> habits. This means she is in way more control of my life than I would like. Anyway, she gives me the blow pop and I lick at it for a while, not really having any. I wrap it up and stick it in my pocket. Little while later I lick it some more. Long story short, I didn’t eat it! A couple licks here and there is all. Whether she noticed or cared, I don’t know.
I had a bloody nose after my shower last night. Kinda creeped me out a little since I have only ever had one bloody nose and that was after my dog punched me. It finally stopped, though. It wasn’t bad, just a bit of blood.
I tried on my senior t-shirt from high school. It totally fits! It’s an XL and it’s been 10 years since high school. I was so excited I went to show my mom, trying to build some sort of relationship with her. She said that’s nice and then told me I need to do something about my hips. Asked me what new exercises I could do to make them smaller. I naturally build walls around myself, and let me tell you, I could actually feel them rebuild at that exact moment. It was startling. I shut down right there. But wait, there’s more. She then told me my double chin was gone. WTF. I wasn’t even aware that I had a double chin. So now I’m self-conscious about living with a double chin. I don’t understand her need to break me. Over and over she tears me down. And I, like a dumb ass keep pulling down the walls enough to share with her. Why do I even care what she thinks or does? I promised myself that I would never let her make me cry again. And I haven’t cried. Doesn’t mean I don’t hurt, but I haven’t fallen apart.
I want to understand her mind, but I also really don’t give a flying fig. If she can’t be happy for me without criticizing, then I don’t need her. I love my mother, I am not heartless. But I am at a point where I need to worry about me, and if that means breaking the ties then so be it. I don’t want to be surrounded by people who only feel good when they hate on others. Somehow, after being raised in this situation, I have managed to rise above. I will say, that whenever I see large people, particularly children, I cringe and ask myself why they aren’t doing anything about that. I know that not everyone has the same willpower as me, but a little effort never hurt anyone. That’s not to say I couldn’t be someone’s reverse thinspo, but I am working my ass off, literally and figuratively, to make myself beautiful.
In the end, all I want is to die beautiful. To look perfect laid in a casket. Flawless. To not need the jumbo coffin. To not need 12 pall bearers. I want to die beautiful. If you can’t deal with that then move along.
To all the haters, I say, you don’t know me. You don’t know the hateful things I say to myself. You don’t know how badly I want to love the body I have. How I would slowly kill myself to feel worthwhile. You only see the toad on the outside. Inside, I am amazing. But I also put on a face. You’d never guess how much I want to hurt myself. How I wish I could go back to cutting. How I tried to cut the other night and just couldn’t. You’d never guess that I call myself horrible names because I’m hungry after eating almost nothing for 2 months. Tell myself I’m a loser because I just can’t go another minute at the gym on an empty stomach. So if it makes you feel special to say those things to my face, just know—There is nothing you can say to me that will hurt worse than the things I say to myself.