Saw 125, then had to go away for a few days which included specially-laid-on trip to Chinatown and old favourite Italian ice-cream shop in Soho. Felt calm though, knowing that purging was completely out of the question, so I dug deep, mentally shrugged and found some shreds of self-control. Managed to get rid of lots of my little icecream geberously handing it round for tasting so avoided the self-loathing and fuck-it attitude that usually brings.
Also, was walking about with size (UK) 10 jeans trailing off me, literally falling off without being undone. I might be ready for an 8, but I have never ever been that small and it feels like such a huge step. Do I really deserve to be so small and not covered in this disgusting lard that gives me an excuse to hide and explain away why I am so hard to love? I am actually afraid. It turns out that actually losing weight is not really this issue here...
Amazing comment about husband and family reactions to my loss from the incredibly intelligent and perceptive Medica - there is something changing, inside you and on the outside, and they were not involved in the decision making. It´s a little bit about control, too, don´t you think?
Oh yes, in every single way.
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Showing posts with label family. Show all posts
Friday, 2 April 2010
Tuesday, 30 March 2010
30.iii
Damn scales stuck again at 126, grrr, how can this same number inspire both elation and frustration?? hoping
Clothes really loose now, husband noticed that formerly skinny jeans pretty baggy, is hoping I will stop.
When I am thin, yes I will.
My mother and sister, who are both like sticks, said ooah, you are so thin - nowhere near as thin as either of them are and in weird voices - well I am messing with their comfort zones by not being the clever fat one, so they are bound to feel threatened.
But frankly? I long long ago stopped giving a flying fuck for what they think.
Clothes really loose now, husband noticed that formerly skinny jeans pretty baggy, is hoping I will stop.
When I am thin, yes I will.
My mother and sister, who are both like sticks, said ooah, you are so thin - nowhere near as thin as either of them are and in weird voices - well I am messing with their comfort zones by not being the clever fat one, so they are bound to feel threatened.
But frankly? I long long ago stopped giving a flying fuck for what they think.
Tuesday, 2 March 2010
2.ii
Mood bit teary and bonkers today, due inevitably to hormones, though am glad for once that I recognise this instead of my usual mid-tears-and-snot rant thinking 'oh, wonder if my period is due..'
Scale back to 135 again, oh joy. Am slow and steady as a tortoise though. Will not be derailed and am trying very hard to stay under 300-ish calories a day. I don;t feel hungry or deprived and I must say that thinking big-picture long-term is a huge help. Two people commented today how much weight I have lost (over 15lbs since January). Told them I have stopped drinking. Didn't mention I have stopped eating too - they are way too plump-mummy and would force-feed me biscuits in seconds.
Was very pleased though as am in new size 10 Topshop jeans which I shrugged comfotably into. I should really be a size six though with my dwarfy height!
Remembered in the car today a night in my teens when my (as usual) drunk father was crashing on my bedroom door telling me I stank, I was a slut and I was fat and lazy. Amazing what happens behind nice middle-class intellectual doors after 8pm.
He and my enabling head-in-sand mother live very close to me. I see them less often than they would like but enough for me to not suddenly think 'Oooh, good plan, I'll just go back 20 years and drag it all up so you can see how shit you were and understand why I will NEVER be a parent like you pair were.'
No, I will finally believe with all my heart that I am gorgeous and that I can be thin and that I truly deserve lovely things.
Scale back to 135 again, oh joy. Am slow and steady as a tortoise though. Will not be derailed and am trying very hard to stay under 300-ish calories a day. I don;t feel hungry or deprived and I must say that thinking big-picture long-term is a huge help. Two people commented today how much weight I have lost (over 15lbs since January). Told them I have stopped drinking. Didn't mention I have stopped eating too - they are way too plump-mummy and would force-feed me biscuits in seconds.
Was very pleased though as am in new size 10 Topshop jeans which I shrugged comfotably into. I should really be a size six though with my dwarfy height!
Remembered in the car today a night in my teens when my (as usual) drunk father was crashing on my bedroom door telling me I stank, I was a slut and I was fat and lazy. Amazing what happens behind nice middle-class intellectual doors after 8pm.
He and my enabling head-in-sand mother live very close to me. I see them less often than they would like but enough for me to not suddenly think 'Oooh, good plan, I'll just go back 20 years and drag it all up so you can see how shit you were and understand why I will NEVER be a parent like you pair were.'
No, I will finally believe with all my heart that I am gorgeous and that I can be thin and that I truly deserve lovely things.
Friday, 26 February 2010
26.ii
So why be thin? I wouldn'y know, never have been. I did once, years ago, through a judicious combination of bulimia and laxative abuse, get down to about 9 stone, but that must be the lowest ever.
My sister is thin; I've never seen my mother eat lunch. Or breakfast for that matter. She put me on a diet at eight. At sixteen, she encouraged me to have black coffee and cigarettes for breakfast and wouldn't make me sandwiches to take to school. Instead, I got a bag of cheese and peanuts. WTF? Hello, fat content. Needless to say, I'd scarfed them by recess and became the most helpful person in the school canteen so I could get something to eat which I'd try and throw up later on.
My father would sit at the table at supper, staring at me eyeing the chips and pizza which was the plat du jour many jours, chanting 'resist it, fight it.'
What a twat.
No wonder I have fucking issues about eating.
What a pathetic and sad little tale.
My sister is thin; I've never seen my mother eat lunch. Or breakfast for that matter. She put me on a diet at eight. At sixteen, she encouraged me to have black coffee and cigarettes for breakfast and wouldn't make me sandwiches to take to school. Instead, I got a bag of cheese and peanuts. WTF? Hello, fat content. Needless to say, I'd scarfed them by recess and became the most helpful person in the school canteen so I could get something to eat which I'd try and throw up later on.
My father would sit at the table at supper, staring at me eyeing the chips and pizza which was the plat du jour many jours, chanting 'resist it, fight it.'
What a twat.
No wonder I have fucking issues about eating.
What a pathetic and sad little tale.
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