Reading the entry linked above, I felt a lump in my throat. I probably weigh ten pounds more than I did when I wrote it, and that makes me sad. They aren’t ten pounds of vacation fun or ten pounds of self-love; they are ten pounds of binges driven by depression and fueled by guilt. I did make it 11 days binge-free before experiencing a rather disgusting setback driven by getting drunk at a boring party, but I cannot ignore the fact that my clothes are starting to fit differently. Putting on my German H&M size 34 dresses means risking not being able to get them off over my head and feeling them pull uncomfortably across my back and rib area.
It feels unfair because mentally, I feel 99.9% better than I did when I was stuck in binge cycles. I’m not depressed all the time and I feel like I can control what I put in my mouth. Yet I look in the mirror and look down and I see a fat mess. I’m no longer at the point where it will come off in a week, and for some reason knowing it’s “regain” weight instead of just plain old weight makes it so much tougher to buckle down and stick to anything. Knowing that I had intended to be at goal (115) nearly a month ago feels discouraging, even though goal dates are just arbitrary numbers and I had sworn off numbers in the last blog entry I wrote.
I do owe it to myself to be in the best shape I can be in. My injuries aren’t hurting so much these days so there has been an increase in running, and I have planned a challenging (6 hour) mountain hike for Sunday. I am still nowhere near my highest fitness level; my heavier body struggles to do 50 pushups when it used to handle 100 like a champ. The thought of running at a fast pace for an hour straight seems a distant dream. But slowly, surely, I can get there.
One interesting breakthrough happened yesterday. I spent the day with friends at an amusement park and we wound up at the Hard Rock Cafe eating gigantic burgers and french fries and huge, sprawling brownie sundaes. All “American size” as they say. As I took my first bites, I felt an odd sort of tension quickly followed by a bolt of euphoria. I realized that for me, these sorts of foods don’t register in my brain as “food” - in fact, going by how my brain reacted I couldn’t distinguish between this stuff and the various powdery white substances I experimented with in college. I also spent my whole meal feeling jealous of my friend’s chicken/vegetable fajitas and realized I don’t like burgers or french fries all that much at all.
The more you know, I guess.
Filed under: Uncategorized on April 10th, 2011