Sometimes the weekends take more out of me than the work week - this one especially. Lots going on in terms of school, friends, random activities, food stress, etc. Plus, I'm sleep-deprived.
First of all, thank you so much to everyone for the comments/e-mails about the medication question; it's hugely reassuring to hear about other people's experiences with or without drugs, and helps me see the issue more objectively. I'm not one hundred percent decided either way, but will definitely discuss it more with R this week. In general, I just feel a whole lot better and calm about the whole situation. So, thanks!
My date went well! Scary, but well. Scary in terms of the food part, well in terms of the date part. The restaurant was just as terrifying as I had anticipated - I did pick out a menu item ahead of time, but the dish ended up being much bigger/gooier/richer than expected. I wasn't particularly hungry either, which always makes food extremely unappetizing to me.
BUT I soldiered through, ate a decent portion even though I didn't really like/want it, and tried to focus more on the conversation than the puddle of grease on my plate. Before going, I had sort of made a commitment to myself to just eat like a normal person, not look weird, and not freak out because it was just one meal. The hard part isn't thinking one meal will make me fat, because I know that it won't. The hard part is not knowing the ingredients or the calories, and sitting with the gross, fat, full feeling afterwards.
Despite that, I had a really good time. He paid. Again. So....yup.
Afterwards, my roommate and I had a quick date recap while assembling half-hearted Halloween costumes, and then went out to a party at our others friends' apartment. I think the alcohol helped me loosen up a bit about the big dinner earlier, because I had a great time and, for a while, forgot about feeling fat. I am not a big drinker (CALORIES), but I do love nice, girly mixed drinks. I get made fun of for how weak I make my drinks, but I call it being economical. Even just a teensy bit of alcohol calms me down tremendously.
The next morning, I woke up feeling super exhausted, bloated, and yucky. Between the salty restaurant meal and extra alcohol calories, I was positive my weight would be up. The smart thing to do would probably have been to skip my morning weighing ritual, but of course I didn't.
So imagine my shock when I stepped on the scale and the number was down. Not drastically, but below the usual range, and the lowest it's been in months. Obviously, I must have been dehydrated from the drinking or something, but I was still taken aback. My body baffles me.
Yesterday was spent frantically catching up on homework, taking care of random errands and laundry, and trying not to obsess about my weight, food, calories, or boys. After all the excitement, I was dozing off by about ten-thirty last night. So, a successful weekend overall, I think. But I'm kind of relieved that it's Monday.