Tuesday, 30 June 2009

• The Love Hate Relationship

  I hate food.  I hate being fat.  I hate this excess... this constant excess carrying itself on my body.  It sits there and it reminds me of how awful I am, how slothful, how lazy, how worthless, how unattractive I am... and it reminds me all day long.

  So I'm on weight watchers.  I'm trying to do things right this time.  I'm trying not to starve myself into illness or rot my teeth any further away with purging.  I'm working hard and moderation is fucking awful.  It is hard to remind myself to not be on the extremes of things.  I am used to black or white, all or nothing.  That's why anorexia/bulimia was so useful to me.  I could either have all or I could have nothing... but one way or another, I could control it.  I could say when enough was enough.  No one else had that right... no one else could tell me what was wrong or right.  I decided.

  I decide, kind of, on Weight Watchers.  I count my points and I can go to the edge of the points or I can be minimalist... though, they say not to.  Healthy.  I try.  Like any anorexic mindset, however, restaurants are killers.  They present opportunities for the nothing mind to gorge...

  We are in Hawaii.  I am constantly surrounded by restaurants... in situations where I cannot accurately count, measure, or control anything.  I am so strict at home that I weigh my food on a scale.  I measure every cup, half cup, etc.  This is perfect for me, right?  Well, I started eating tonight... and it was digusting.  Disgusting.  Surrounded by restaurants... I felt myself get anxious.  The last few days have become increasingly more difficult when I stand in front of a menu and decide what I can or cannot have.  I feel I can't have most of it and I get panicky.  Will I have the willpower?  Do I have the control?  But I'm so hungry... but I want to eat like a happy fat person again.  It's freaking stinking hard.  Today hit me.  The stress of restaurant after restaurant quickened my pulse, sped up my respirations and I had to fight back the shaking and the tears.  I'M SICK OF EATING.  I'm sick of these choices.  I'm sick of restricting, of controlling.  I'm on vacation in Hawaii for damn sake.  I can enjoy things minimally.  This is good... because I won't go home a blown up cow ... but I just feel trapped.  I don't know what to do with these extremes. 

  I don't like this anxiety.  I don't like constantly wondering and fearing food.  I don't like the power it has over me.  I...

  I feel really sad right now and I don't know what to do with it.

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