I binge but purging scares the hell outta me. I've done it and it's creepy how it becomes this daily occurrence, this need, and before long it becomes automatic. I've managed to overcome it, but it's nuts how I think about it still. Like last night's Ben and Jerry's disaster. It must have been in the air, I read in another blog about it. I ate an entire pint (except for the very melted bottom) of Phish Food. Shiit. For real though, it was too sweet. And luckily I had barely ate before that, so the damage was minimal, but I really wanted to throw it up.
And I knew it would be easy. Ice cream comes up fast. My stomach was ready to barf, my throat was watering...but I refused. I hate the feeling, it is so...unnatural. I hate standing there, focusing only on puke, feeling like a fucked up failure, feeling like death.
Regardless, I am glad it didn't happen but seriously wish I didn't ingest those evil calories. Who thought of selling ice cream by the pint anyways???/ JEez, it's obesity in a carton.
Today, I ate a salad. No dressing, just a spoonful of hummus (which I mixed in). It was delicious and filling. I have been eating wayyy too much sugar this past week, but it is my time of the month. I look back on Lose It and see the pattern. When my emotions get all wacked out so does my control and eating.
Lame. Thanks, Mother Nature.
So I never wrote that paper. Didn't go to class at all yesterday. In my head I gave up. But my heart knows it needs to be done by Monday. Too bad I have not even started it. Too bad I just invited B. (ex-bf) down to my college town for a night of partying. Lol. Typical Sar.
We're going to get drunk. And high. I can't wait...I just want company. I am so freakin' alone and if I'm going to keep procrastinating than I need someone around to distract me.
T. and I are over.
I broke down and called a counselor yesterday (yesterday was a bad, emotional day) and they couldn't get me an appointment for three fucking weeks...so I said screw it. Actually I said, "Ok..." with tears in my voice and the lady asked if I was having a crisis. Fuck yes I'm having a crisis, I bit the bullet and called did I not? And yet I found myself saying no and meaning it. I would just have to get through the day on my own. And I did, somehow.
This is what I did: Smoked, Rented A Movie, Got Ben & Jerry's (evil bastards), ate it, watched half of "Julia & Julie", went to bed, slept like shit, had a nightmare about T. and me beating some chick up, woke up to my cat running all ape shit, put him in the bathroom, went back to bed and woke up alone, like I always do.
It works, briefly. Today has been better. I took 2 boxes of recycling back and picked up a presription (b.c.) (no sex though wtf). Doing little things like that seems to help my mind out.
It is 5:22 pm and I am high. I need to vaccuum. And shower. And clean up/put clothes away/do dishes/hide scale/clean bathroom. He will be here at 9. I have time. I did want to watch the rest of the movie. I think I might.
I like blogging. Is there anything you want me to write about?
Stay skinny. Think thin.