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I’m so hungry.

I feel like this is what I’ve been going through everyday since the day that I decided for the lifestyle change. Sometimes it’s a “oh my god I’m starving feeling”, but usually I’m just craving and wanting crap food. I want nothing more than to go into Panera and order all of their bagels with extra cream cheese. Or I want to get pretzels with sweet mustard and eat them all. Or I want angel food cake with extra strawberry syrup.

I can keep going. I can keep talking and dreaming about food. It’s my addiction. Some people dream of heroine, weed, even where their next drink will come from. I dream of food. I love to eat it, I love to cook it, I love feeding other people. So of course I have these huge moments of despair. Thinking that at any moment I will slip up and start eating and never stop.

But the hardest part I’ve been having is my husband. Don’t you think that my husband would be my number one supporter? Well he’s not. Maybe in theory he is, but not in reality. Last night we had a mishap and I had to work late so I could not make dinner, so I had to go out to eat. I did really great actually. I went to Chipotle got a burrito bowl. Brown rice, barbacoa, hot salsa, and corn salsa all for 410 calories. I should have added the cheese but at the time I knew it was 100 calories and I didn’t know where I sat yet on calories for the day. Well on my way out of the mall, after I had passed all the pretzel stands, all the ice cream stands, and my arch-nemesis taco bell, my husband texts me and wants some desert. You know how hard it is to have a cinnabon cinnamon roll sitting right next to me and not reach over and grab it and stick my face in it and devour it? Well it’s fucking hard as shit.

I know he was just hungry. I know not to blame him. I know that he loves me. But just like I said hundreds of times that I want to loose weight, every time he’s told me that he will support me. He doesn’t know how to be supportive because I have never actually kept myself to my word.

I know self control. I was anorexic/bulimic for like 2 years. I can have self control. But there is this fine line between self control and self restricting myself calories. I’m always walking this line. “Am I not eating this because I’m about to relapse or am I not eating this because I don’t need it”. An anorexic will always say ‘because I don’t need it’. But I do need calories. I don’t need calories from cinnamon rolls. I do need calories from meat, cheese, fruit, and vegetables.

This isn’t really a post about anything, but my struggle every single day. I’m not a normal person loosing weight. I’m torn between being fat, getting fit, or relapsing into a sickness. When I listen to the voice inside my head I end up eating only  900 calories for my day. The little voice tells me that 900 calories is bad, that I can survive on less. I’m weak because I need food. That I’m less of a person because I ate that entire bowl of Chipotle. That my husband must think I’m a pig because of the way I eat. Isn’t that messed up? Yea it really is. I don’t know how to make that voice shut up. I only know how to cover those feelings with food. But now I’m trying to balance those out. I’m trying to figure out the balance of eating food and not starving my body.

Sigh. I’m glad no one reads this blog because if they did I would be really embarrassed of telling the truth.


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