Archive for August, 2011

Nothing has happened since I last wrote here, but I am determined to not let time slip away like before! I’m trying to stay focused on not eating too much, but not pressurising myself into eating too little, so I’ve been walking on the treadmill like crazy and keeping myself busy.

I’ve also decided to read some self-help books and review them on here, because when looking for a book on eating disorders and
over-eating, there are so many to choose from I didn’t know which book would be best for me. I’ve read two in the past which I will review as well as some new ones, but at the moment I’m going to ‘reclaim my body’ with When Women Stop Hating Their Bodies by Jane R. Hirschmann and Carol H. Munter. The title makes me want to run a mile, I have to admit; I feel like I’m going to open it and there’ll be two American therapists yelling positive phrases at me which will make me hastily put the book down and get back to the real world. But I’ll give it a whirl and let you know what I think next week.




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These, Unfortunately, Are Not My Legs

I haven’t posted in a while now, because I fell into the same pattern that I fall into every time I start something new; I waited to
lose weight.

A few weeks ago I picked up my prescription for anti-depressants and I still haven’t taken them yet. I don’t know if I will,
but I finally got a great distraction from the fact that I wasn’t exercising, and therefore couldn’t focus completely on dieting. I mean, food is the hardest part of losing weight for me; I’m so unpredictable when it comes to food.

We got a treadmill. It’s quite comical really, as I live with my parents and brother, and our house is small, and I mean small. We have one bathroom between all of us, and considering I have an overactive bladder (which just means I pee more than normal) can be a tad annoying. We pretty much have a kitchen and a dining/living room downstairs, which means that most things that happen in our house, happen in the living room because… there’s no room anywhere else.

But, because of body image meltdown, it was agreed that not only would I really benefit from it, so would everyone in my family, and so far ¾ have been on it like sonic!

So with the treadmill in place, I felt that this would be a good opportunity to weigh myself, sort out an eating plan for myself but not be too strict with it, and see if that leads me anywhere. But when I stepped on the scales for the first time in about three months, I saw something that no one wanting to lose weight wants to see; I put on weight. And not just like, three pounds or even half a stone, which would still be catastrophic in my eyes… but two stones. Yeah. I cried, a lot.

I’d be lying if I said I was over it now; I’m still gutted and I think I’ll always be ashamed of myself, because not only did I not realise just how much weight I’d put on, I was kidding myself that I’d stayed the same weight. Most of my clothes still fit, albeit tightly, but I had been in complete denial, something that I thought I had overcome. So, instead of 4 1/2 stone to lose, I now have 6
½ to lose.

So I didn’t blog for a while, because I was waiting to lose more weight, so I could report something positive, because all I could feel was … shit, to put it bluntly.

After having my world come crashing down with the scales, I tried to shove it to the back of my mind, and I successfully exercised and had more control over my food than I have in a long time. I lost 1 pound, which I admit I was really disappointed about, but it’s a start, and I’m trying to tell myself that every day. I’m not going to be too obsessive about the scales because it’s only going to make me feel bad about myself. Hopefully i’ll be able to blog with some news that doesn’t involve the phrases ‘i cried’ and ‘ashamed of myself’ and ‘pee more than normal’ … not in that order anyway.



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Man I Wish I Looked Like Her When Eating Chocolate
For the past week I have been depressed, and therefore a right moody cow. I went to the doctors and got some anti-depressants, but as I was sitting in the pharmacists, playing Spot The Body Shape in my own sad little weight watching world, I stopped being depressed, and started feeling angry.

Why the hell should I, at 21 years old, be taking anti-depressants and worrying that the woman 30 years older than me looks better in jeans than I do. I shouldn’t be worrying about that. I should be thinking about all the clothes I can buy when I start full time work, and all the holidays I can finally go on when I get some money. I really shouldn’t be worried about the fact that my jeans are getting tighter, and yet I refuse to walk to the local shops in fear of people seeing just how sizable my ass is.

I had a The Shining-esque rant in my head, you know, the one where Jack Nicholson is creeping up the stairs towards that woman with the big eyes, and he’s having an epic rant about his interfering family. Yeah… like that.

I was blaming everyone under the sun; the Doctor for giving me anti-depressants but being sceptical about the likelihood of me getting more therapy, my inability to pay for private therapy because my lack of job prospects, and how despite trying to lose weight for at least a decade, I had failed continuously.

As I picked up my prescription, and was warned about the high anxiety levels I could experience within the first fortnight, I realised that if I didn’t want to take anti-depressants, then I would have to find another way to get happy.

And last night I had one of the greatest moments in Eating Disorder ass-kicking history: I said no to chocolate. I said no to anti-depressants, and I said no to chocolate. It’s not a first, but this time it was different.

I’d had a fairly good day, considering for the last fortnight I had been stuck in the depths of despair, I then spilt my tea over
me, discovered half my dinner was still frozen, looked for a DVD that I swear has vanished and accidentally kicked the cat. (She was sleeping half under a cushion, OK? I didn’t see her!) So as anyone will know, if you’re in a normal mood these things can be annoying, but when you’re not in a normal mood, they can be catastrophic. Immediately after my shitty ready meal dinner, I wanted chocolate; and lots of it. I got anxious, really anxious, and searched the cupboards. I was contemplating whether to go
to the shops and get something.

This is a controversial idea to me; you see, the shop holds all the chocolate I could ever want, and so is therefore the logical answer to my chocolate cravings, especially since I cannot sit still at this point, and am on the verge of tears with not having chocolate. However, this is a mind riddled with eating disorder-itus, and with that comes a very shitty body image problem which means I don’t like to be seen, and to get to the shops, I would have to walk. Dilemma? Dilemma indeed. Then, because I am at the end of my tether, and I probably look and definitely feel like I am about to lose my mind from chocolate withdrawal, my mum says she’ll go down the shops for me.

A lot of people reading this who don’t understand Eating Disorders will probably point out that the logical thing for my mum to do would be to refuse to go down the shops, and let me deal with my anxiety. However, having an Eating Disorder, as I’ve said before, manages to defy the power of logic, and my mum knows that if I was in binge-mode (a binge that will normally last a
couple of days) the anxiety won’t fade.

But, if she hadn’t offered the answer to my dilemma, I wouldn’t have been able to say no to chocolate. It was an hour after the
anxiety kicked in and I’d had time to think. That’s the thing with binges; the thought process doesn’t actually make sense: I’m fat and ugly but this chocolate will make everything better? Incorrect.

And so I went without chocolate.

Me – 1

Eating Disorder – 0



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