I know I've griped and groaned about this over and over and over and NO ONE wants to hear about it anymore, I know, I'm sorry, I hate to go here again.....but my body image has hit new lows. I know I said it was bad before, but now it's really really bad. I can't stand the sight of myself, or the feel of my clothes, or stepping on the scale. I tried not weighing myself this morning, but then I cracked and gave in, and ended up miserable about the number anyway.
My weight is the highest it's been since April 2011, and I am not.coping.well. I cry all the time about how fat I'm getting. I haven't slashed my intake or taken up marathon training or anything, but the little stuff is starting to happen again. Little stuff like not eating all the crusts of my sandwiches, leaving bites of dinner on my plate, etc. Little stuff that was starting to seem silly and fade away as I slowly gained weight over the summer and loosened up on some of the food rigidity. I'm not doing anything that's going to seriously affect my weight at all, but the restrictive, punishing mindset is kicking in.
I've weighed more than this before, so it's not like this is an lifetime high for me. And I'm not overweight, by any means. Maybe it's because the gain is happening more quickly than I'm okay with, or maybe because it's happening at least partly outside my control with the medication, or maybe I've just spent so much time at the lower weight that I don't remember what this size feels like. Maybe it's because I'm not working out at all right now, and the last time I weighed this much I was running and biking a lot so the muscle-to-fat ratio was different. It's all relative, I suppose. Once upon a time, I would have been perfectly happy to be this weight. At other times, I probably would have been suicidal.
I have no plans to starve and lose all the weight I've gained over the past few months, but I'd be a lot more okay with the gain if my body were actually starting to feel healthier, which it's not. I thought my eyes were doing better, but they've been hurting a lot again the past week. My skin is dry and gray, and my hair is still coming out. It's hard to love a body that's doing everything it can to fuck with you. I just want it to cooperate, for God's sake. Trust me, Body, damn it! I know that isn't fair of me to ask anymore, but I want so badly to do it right this time around, I'm so ready, and I feel like my body has finally given up on me.
I want to be well, but I don't want to be fat. Hell, it doesn't even matter what the reality is, I just don't want to feel fat. There's got to be a way to have both, right? A way that doesn't involve starving, of course. At therapy last week, R told me: "Starving doesn't solve anything." I think I need to get that engraved somewhere...or tattooed down my arm, perhaps.
Argh. Okay, it's lunchtime. Peace, everyone.