Part of the problem is that because I spent so many years constantly ruminating over food, calories, weight, numbers, and eating vegetables, fruit and cereal; I now have this whole world of food that I am just now starting to not be afraid of. Consequently, sometimes that part of me that still thinks I will never be thin enough starts nagging at me.
I ate sour cream for the first time in probably 5 years on Tuesday night. If it had not been for the fact that my boyfriend’s father made the meal and I didn’t want to appear picky, I would not have chosen to eat it. It does not consume my life anymore. And that is hard to deal with sometimes! Not that I can go around eating sour cream all the time because it is definitely not a healthy food choice. But, the fact that I ate it and did not freak out afterward might warrant a little, tiny, minuscule pat on the back.
On the other hand, when all these little victories add up, they also add up numbers and then I get to thinking–which is never a good thing. I think a mirror that shows you how other people see you should be invented. Or, maybe I really do need to lose a little bit of weight. How would I fucking know, I have not had a clue since I was what..11.
It’s sad. It is really fucking awful. I want to cry for the girl who wrote all those journal entries february 2007-November 2007 and even moreso the girl who wrote before that, and the one who still struggles sometimes, alone, in her mind, hoping her own inner demons lie, and what everyone else says it true–but never believing it.
It is heartbreaking. I can never see myself in the present. I see myself in the past and berate myself for thinking I was fat then—because it takes me months or years later to realize I wasn’t, and then berating myself for the future person who needs to be this unattainable number.
I am happy. Day-to-day, I am absolutely fine. It’s just that this sits there and comes out at the most inopportune times.