Things are still going well. I'm still on two apples a day. School has been ridiculously busy (today was 8:30am - 5pm with one 1 hour break) which makes it easy to forget to feel hungry.
Tomorrow is a bit more chill, so I have the time (but not the mental stability) to go out to lunch. I also have a lunch party on Sunday. I've decided that I'll allow myself to be "normal" food-wise on ONE of these afternoons, but haven't yet decided which one. I'll try to make it to Sunday, but if I'm feeling too hungry tomorrow, I'll eat a little to prevent a disaster later down the line. And then no more until next week :)
Wednesday, January 19, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Not feeling as good as I was yesterday...
...because I'm feeling AMAZING.
I've noticed that I never write about what makes me feel GOOD. Probably because I'm too busy being out there and doing it. But right now I feel like it's really important to record this feeling for posterity, so I don't have to keep on learning this lesson:
* Of course, I havesomewhat ridiculously warped views on what "eating properly" means. ~An apple a day keeps the fat away!~
I know this. I've been through this cycle countless times. So why do I continue to binge?
(I meant for this to be a quick happy-go-lucky post, but it's turned into the monster below. You've been warned!)
I've been thinking about this a lot for the past few days (monthsyearsdecades?) and came to the sudden realisation that the crappy feelings I get now from binging weren't always there. They crept up on me very very slowly.
I remember binging from when I was very young. It would only happen on the weekend when I stayed with my grandparents, because they would let me have anything I wanted, whereas my nasty old mother expected me to obey her rules and be disciplined. (Now of course, I love my mum and am ineffably grateful for the 5 "miserable" days I spent with her while she tried to undo all of the physical and psychological damage that I unknowingly suffered every weekend.)
At 7 years old I had mastered the ability to consume 4 slices of bread with ridiculous amounts of nutella for breakfast, a Happy Meal for lunch, an unknown amount of chocolate for an "afternoon snack", another Happy Meal for dinner, and a couple of bowls of ice cream. I fucking wish I was joking. This was a typical Saturday for the first 10 years of my life. Needless to say, I was the fat kid.
I started high school just before I turned 11, and although I'm not sure why, I stopped spending time with my grandparents. My mum says that I just seemed to get sick of the free reign I had while I was there, which was probably just a sign of me maturing. Whatever the reason, I am once again ineffably grateful. Spending my weekends at home meant that all of my food intake was dependent on my mum... and there is no way in hell she would let either of us near a McDonald's, let alone TWICE A DAY.
I still had issues with food (and of course, my mum isn't completely innocent; one of the fun facts about me is that I have NEVER seen my mother eat anything other than an apple). For a year or so I picked up the habit of eating my lunch as soon as I got on the school bus, about half an hour after I'd had breakfast. Then I spent about a year throwing my lunch away as soon as I got to school. This binge-restrict-binge pattern has continued ever since.
My binge habit really started to accelerate when I began uni, because it meant more freedom. I had ACTUAL REAL MONEY that I could use to buy WHATEVER I WANTED! I started off buying a bag of M&Ms (200g or 250g? Either way, way too much chocolate) every Friday afternoon when I had a three-hour break. Then I started getting them a couple of times a week. Then every day. Then twice a day (one for during the day, one for on the way home).
Fast-forward five years. Now, one measly bag of chocolate is considered a "good", "manageable" binge, which should make me "happy that I didn't go over-the-top".
I'm so fucked up.
I've completely lost my original point in my effort to word-vomit my story (pun intended). Back in those early days of uni, I felt great. Chocolate was the cherry on top of my week/day/hour. I felt content all afternoon. I didn't feel any worse the next day, and my weight was completely stable.
After a while I started getting what my mum unaffectionately refers to as "food hangovers". I attributed it to getting older. My response was to cut some salt - but not sugar, never ever ever cut sugar - from my diet. A while after that, I started feeling crappy all afternoon after I binged.
[Insert a few years of switching between intense binging and intense starving every few months. Yaaaay?]
But never before, until a few weeks ago, have I ever felt bad WHILE I was binging. I kept doing it every day, anyway, worse than ever before. I guess I figured I just needed to keep doing it to get the feeling back.
The past two weeks will have been completely worth it, if that was what I needed to snap me out of the habit. It's only been four days, I know, and I must sound hopelessly optimistic, but I feel... powerful?... in a way that I never have before. I've "quit" binging before (or rather, switched it to heavy restricting) for months at a time, but I always went back. This feels different. I think I've FINALLY satisfied myself in knowing that NOTHING about it benefits me. Before I always had a reason to go back to it, no matter how ridiculous and self-sabotaging that reason was.
Even as I'm typing this, I find my conviction in this sudden realisation a bit silly. But the conviction itself hasn't changed. Does that make sense?
It's hard to explain. Even thinking of my eating habits a week ago is strange to me. It's as if now that I've experienced a complete lack of pleasure in eating that way, I no longer understand how I could EVER have gained pleasure from it.
Is it even a little bit realistic to think that something in my head has "clicked"? Or is it just wishful thinking? I feel so SURE about this, but when I try to rationalise it, it doesn't make any sense. Deep-rooted issues like this don't just go away overnight. A part of me believes that they don't ever go away.
But I feel really, really GOOD right now.
I've confused the fuck out of myself. But I still feel just as good.
Maybe one day I'll "click" again, and I can feel good without starving, too, and then I'll be normal. A girl can dream...
I've noticed that I never write about what makes me feel GOOD. Probably because I'm too busy being out there and doing it. But right now I feel like it's really important to record this feeling for posterity, so I don't have to keep on learning this lesson:
When I eat properly*, I feel unstoppably energetic and fabulous.
When I binge, I feel slow and sad and useless and bloated and FAT and miserable.
* Of course, I have
I know this. I've been through this cycle countless times. So why do I continue to binge?
(I meant for this to be a quick happy-go-lucky post, but it's turned into the monster below. You've been warned!)
I've been thinking about this a lot for the past few days (monthsyearsdecades?) and came to the sudden realisation that the crappy feelings I get now from binging weren't always there. They crept up on me very very slowly.
I remember binging from when I was very young. It would only happen on the weekend when I stayed with my grandparents, because they would let me have anything I wanted, whereas my nasty old mother expected me to obey her rules and be disciplined. (Now of course, I love my mum and am ineffably grateful for the 5 "miserable" days I spent with her while she tried to undo all of the physical and psychological damage that I unknowingly suffered every weekend.)
At 7 years old I had mastered the ability to consume 4 slices of bread with ridiculous amounts of nutella for breakfast, a Happy Meal for lunch, an unknown amount of chocolate for an "afternoon snack", another Happy Meal for dinner, and a couple of bowls of ice cream. I fucking wish I was joking. This was a typical Saturday for the first 10 years of my life. Needless to say, I was the fat kid.
I started high school just before I turned 11, and although I'm not sure why, I stopped spending time with my grandparents. My mum says that I just seemed to get sick of the free reign I had while I was there, which was probably just a sign of me maturing. Whatever the reason, I am once again ineffably grateful. Spending my weekends at home meant that all of my food intake was dependent on my mum... and there is no way in hell she would let either of us near a McDonald's, let alone TWICE A DAY.
I still had issues with food (and of course, my mum isn't completely innocent; one of the fun facts about me is that I have NEVER seen my mother eat anything other than an apple). For a year or so I picked up the habit of eating my lunch as soon as I got on the school bus, about half an hour after I'd had breakfast. Then I spent about a year throwing my lunch away as soon as I got to school. This binge-restrict-binge pattern has continued ever since.
My binge habit really started to accelerate when I began uni, because it meant more freedom. I had ACTUAL REAL MONEY that I could use to buy WHATEVER I WANTED! I started off buying a bag of M&Ms (200g or 250g? Either way, way too much chocolate) every Friday afternoon when I had a three-hour break. Then I started getting them a couple of times a week. Then every day. Then twice a day (one for during the day, one for on the way home).
Fast-forward five years. Now, one measly bag of chocolate is considered a "good", "manageable" binge, which should make me "happy that I didn't go over-the-top".
I'm so fucked up.
I've completely lost my original point in my effort to word-vomit my story (pun intended). Back in those early days of uni, I felt great. Chocolate was the cherry on top of my week/day/hour. I felt content all afternoon. I didn't feel any worse the next day, and my weight was completely stable.
After a while I started getting what my mum unaffectionately refers to as "food hangovers". I attributed it to getting older. My response was to cut some salt - but not sugar, never ever ever cut sugar - from my diet. A while after that, I started feeling crappy all afternoon after I binged.
[Insert a few years of switching between intense binging and intense starving every few months. Yaaaay?]
But never before, until a few weeks ago, have I ever felt bad WHILE I was binging. I kept doing it every day, anyway, worse than ever before. I guess I figured I just needed to keep doing it to get the feeling back.
The past two weeks will have been completely worth it, if that was what I needed to snap me out of the habit. It's only been four days, I know, and I must sound hopelessly optimistic, but I feel... powerful?... in a way that I never have before. I've "quit" binging before (or rather, switched it to heavy restricting) for months at a time, but I always went back. This feels different. I think I've FINALLY satisfied myself in knowing that NOTHING about it benefits me. Before I always had a reason to go back to it, no matter how ridiculous and self-sabotaging that reason was.
Even as I'm typing this, I find my conviction in this sudden realisation a bit silly. But the conviction itself hasn't changed. Does that make sense?
It's hard to explain. Even thinking of my eating habits a week ago is strange to me. It's as if now that I've experienced a complete lack of pleasure in eating that way, I no longer understand how I could EVER have gained pleasure from it.
Is it even a little bit realistic to think that something in my head has "clicked"? Or is it just wishful thinking? I feel so SURE about this, but when I try to rationalise it, it doesn't make any sense. Deep-rooted issues like this don't just go away overnight. A part of me believes that they don't ever go away.
But I feel really, really GOOD right now.
I've confused the fuck out of myself. But I still feel just as good.
Maybe one day I'll "click" again, and I can feel good without starving, too, and then I'll be normal. A girl can dream...
Sunday, January 16, 2011
Surprise
I'm actually feeling pretty good today.
For the past three days I've been sticking to my "plan" without a hitch. I say "plan" because I keep mixing it up and basically making up rules as I go. But if it works, it works.
I'm really impatient for tomorrow, just so I can have my timetable and work out my gym sessions around it. I hate not knowing what I'm doing for the rest of the week by Sunday, and I think it's almost evil for them to expect us to live like that.
People say that it's alright for me because I don't have a part-time job to fit around my classes, but I guess to me, my gym routine almost is like a job. At the very least, it's something that I absolutely can't afford to miss.
Oh well. I was going to try to take it easy this week anyway, because of my ankle. Hopefully by Saturday I'll feel good enough to go back to my normal weekend routine.
Still feeling good.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Emergency
On Monday it all begins again.
I'm so disgusted at myself for wasting this holiday, this opportunity. Instead I did the exact opposite of everything I planned to do.
Nevermind. I will - I NEED - to completely throw myself into school right now. At least for the next eight weeks. It's always easiest for me to behave when I'm busiest. It'll all be okay.
At this point, I'm doubting it will make any difference, but for the next three days I'm implementing what I've come to call "Plan B/A":
- a banana for breakfast
- an apple for dinner
- repeat for infinite moneys!*
Gym routine will continue as per usual. If I get desperate I can have an extra piece of fruit, but I doubt my body will need any extra energy as it is literally overflowing with calories right now.
If nothing else, I expect this (along with Plan Charity) will snap me out of the binge rut I've been in lately. I just need to channel the version of me who existed 12 months ago. She totally knew what was what. Real sorry I let you down, Skinniesteverversionofme. :(
Of course, once school starts on Monday I will be running almost exclusively on soy lattes. Win.
* Ugh. Believe me, I know. Just, ugh.
Charity?
I've been binging for the past... well, the past 10 years I suppose, if you want to get technical about it. But the last week has been pretty hardcore. I'd gotten myself into such a state of hateful apathy that I didn't even care that much about the calories - I cared more about the MONEY. My mentality is that if I'm going to eat crap, it may as well be the best "quality" crap, and so I buy the $11 1-litre tub of ice cream instead of the $4 2-litre tub.
I guess the upside is that I consume half as much ice cream as I would have. The downside is that, when combined with whatever savoury food I choose to go WITH my disgusting habit, in the past couple of days I've spent $15-$20 each day purely on binge food. Literally flushing my money down the toilet. Classy, E, real classy.
One thing I've learned about myself on my sick journey of ~self-discovery~, or whatever, is that in order to make any significant change in my life, I need a REAL, TANGIBLE goal. One that's even better than food at satisfying my addiction to instant gratification. Unfortunately, such ideas are hard to come by, and "I want to be thin" isn't always enough (obviously, or I would be thin).
Well, today after I got home from the gym I found myself in even more of a mess than usual. I'd chosen the elliptical closest to the window (which I usually don't, because the morning sun makes it almost unbearable glare- and heat-wise), which also happens to be directly in front of the TV on the Sky (wasn't it once Skyy? Or, wait, I think that's the vodka? Wow, I'm disgusting/fabulous) News channel. I'm always listening to my iPod so I usually browse all eight TV screens without focussing on one in particular, but the angle I was at made it uncomfortable to really look at anything other than Sky.
Naturally, the only thing covered for the duration of my workout was the Queensland floods. Terrible person that I am, I'd been keeping myself "informed" with the news of this disaster to the bare minimum (enough to placate my ego by convincing myself that I'm not completely ignorant re: current affairs). I'd like to add here that I didn't want to know all of the details because I'd be too ~affected~ by them. But that would be a lie. The Sky coverage wasn't enough to tug significantly on my heartstrings, but I suppose I went home more interested than before.
I got home, opened my email, and got my NY Times update, which ACTUALLY included a piece on the floods (I was shocked, I don't think I've ever seen them cover anything in/connected with/even remotely relating to Australia). Since it was the NYT, and therefore "worthy" of my time, I clicked over to the article. I got about half a paragraph in before I noticed the number of comments and decided to just read them instead.
I spent the next two hours bawling my fucking eyes out.
I won't pretend that it was all for them. Some of it - probably a big part of it - maybe even all of it - was for me. Complete with my usual fantasies and everything. I really suck
When my lips started cracking, I realised I needed to find a way to stop crying. Was there a way I could make this situation even MORE about myself? How can I make myself feel better and still sate my own selfishness? Hmm...
I got out my credit card and donated the money I would have spent on today's binge to the Disaster Relief Fund. I guess that means I can't binge today. I guess that means I won't hate myself in the morning (or, at least, there'll be a little less hatred).
Surely the disaster will continue tomorrow. I can donate my food money AGAIN.
And the next day.
And the next day.
And the next day.
Anything that will keep my complexion perfect AND keep calories out of my fat gut has to be a good idea.
Oh, and it's all for a good cause.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
Unbraided
Untangling... unbraided... I've already started mixing my metaphors. Maybe I should have put some more thought into this. Maybe I should put some more thought into everything I do.
I guess I'll figure it out as I go.
I guess I'll figure it out as I go.
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