Not Doing Well

I have all but given up. For now, at least. Disappointment, discouragement and lack of progress will do that to a girl.

You starve yourself for nothing. Throw yourself into misery for nothing. And so, well, eventually you do nothing. Nothing productive, anyway.

I wish there were a magic cure. Not just for weightloss but for my feelings about food. For my feelings, period.

I've taken steps in my life, recently, that I'm hoping will balance out my moods and thus relinquish my need for a food band-aid but I fear that it won't do any good. I simply love to eat. I love to splurge on something I know is bad for me. I hate the way it makes me feel afterwards but at the time? Utter bliss.

I do know that I need to try to eliminate bread from my diet. Not because of some low carb diet but because it makes me feel bloated and gross. I don't think I've developed a gluten intolerance or anything but I'll confess it here and say that I ate a bagel at break this morning and it's made me feel so heavy and bloated that I'm absolutely miserable. Like none of my skin fits right anymore and I could barf at just any second. I almost wish I COULD barf. Maybe it'd make me feel better.

Sorry if talking about barfing is TMI or gross or whatever. Don't come here if you don't want a little TMI every now and then.

Any, in full confession mode:

Yesterday I wasn't feeling all that particularly low. I mean, I've felt better but yesterday wasn't exactly a bad day. And yet, when I realized that my friends were all out yesterday my head went straight to what I could indulge myself on without worrying about their judgment. Because for as much as they lead me into temptation they also keep me in check in a lot of ways. And so at morning break yesterday I found myself scarfing down a full plate of noodles and orange chicken. At 10:30 in the morning, ya'll. We're not exactly talking lunch time  here. I ate half of it before the guilt set in and I packed the rest of it up and brought it back to work with me to keep for later.

Except, there was one minor pesky problem: I still had to figure out a way to avoid judgement from my mother. She and I normally eat lunch together in the lounge at work and, well, I knew if I busted out the Panda box she'd know. And she'd judge. And I'd get defensive and depressed and it'd be all over. So I scrounged around and found a small storage container and transferred my leftovers into it to hide it. Figured I'd just stick it in my lunch bag and take it home for supper, she'd never be the wiser. And when lunch time came, I'd be okay to eat the little Lunchables I'd packed.

What I wasn't counting on was my mother wanting to go to BK for lunch. She'd brought tuna in her lunch bag and decided she couldn't stomach actually eating it. And because I couldn't tell her about my orange chicken indulgence and can't say no without disappointing her, I said yes. So about 45 minutes after my orange chicken indulgence I was off to BK for a burger. I did get a small burger with small fries and Coke but still...

What's worse, is, I physically felt fine! Didn't feel sick or as though I'd just eaten two full meals back to back. What the heck?

But my psyche made up for it. I felt guilty and gross and disgusting the rest of the day. Even more so when I had to figure out how to smuggle my orange chicken home in my purse instead of my lunch bag as I'd planned because I left my lunch bag/Lunchables in the fridge for the next day's lunch.

Oh the tangled web we weave when first we learn to deceive. Especially when the deception is wrapped up in food and shame. Because there was a lot of shame going on yesterday. And it was all my doing. All me. I didn't have to sneak out for orange chicken. I could have just suggested to my mother that we go over there for lunch. But because I feared her judgement, I lead myself down a path of shame and regret and FAR more calories than I needed in a day.

Life shouldn't be so hard. Dealing with food shouldn't be so hard. And while I can sit here and blame society all day long and not be entirely wrong, there's a line from the film, Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood"  where Vivviene is telling her daughter's fiance about her past. She admits, "All the real damage, I did to myself."

And that, my friends, is oh-so-sadly true.