skinny

Not Dieting

not dieting. well, i don't know what to write. it's such an alien concept -- i don't remember ever not dieting in some form in my 44 years.

should i leave this page blank?

no, i'm committed to -- not dieting, whatever that is. i really don't know. it's odd. some people must know how NOT to diet, but how?

my weight hasn't budged since i got back from california. and i really don't have any interest in doing anything about it. my ED tells me that's laziness, and i'd better watch my ass (literally) or i'll be in the Guiness Book for fattest woman on earth. or perhaps the planet. by new years.

but i'm not in the mood. i don't really care. (how weird is that?) i look fine.

my ED howls, pointing out that my boobs are bursting out of their 36D constraints and bra straps dig into my shoulders. my pants are tighter, and i can't afford new clothes. my face is fuller, and it's losing definition. and wait until my next period -- NOTHING will fit, and i'll weigh more than i have in years.

so?

i mean it -- so.

i didn't get on the scale today and wasn't interested. (of course, that's today. who knows how tempted i'll be tomorrow.)

i'm going to buy sexy underwear after work to honor my slightly fluffy body. and the next time i buy clothes, i'm going to buy stuff that shows off this figure. usually, when i'm not skinny, i buy clown pants, so no one can see where i end and the extra fabric starts.

i've never had confidence in this here body, and that's going to change. i've only tortured it with binging, starving, laxatives, enemas, puking, compulsive eating, et. al. enough.

victoria secrets watch out. let's find me a bigger bra for these burgeoning breasts. i don't think the boyfriend will complain.

and neither will I.

isn't it ironic?

i just finished reading Carrie Fisher's Wishful Dreaming. It got great reviews everywhere, but i'm disappointed.

Fisher takes her issues with drugs, drinking and weight and makes self-deprecating jokes. I'm not a fan of dark humor when dealing with addiction.

i think humor masks the issues. we use our extremely clever wit, and we outsmart ourselves. through our laughter, i think we deflect. dark issues become surfacey. this makes it harder to get well.

it's not laughable. there's nothing to be self-deprecating about.

i love humor. i love to laugh. but i love the hearty, happy laugh. the ironic, snide laugh - not so much.

Adjusting

it's not easy keeping my self-esteem up when my weight is also up. i'm working on it.

the new weight does look fine, but it sure frightens me. for the two years after my mother died and i gave up crack cocaine, my weight sat at 145. i didn't eat a ton at all and was surprised that i maintained that high a number. but that's where my body wants to be.

so, i worry that if i don't worry "enough", my body mass will zoom right up.

i fear the zoom, because i want and indulge in a lot of food these days. accepting this weight has brought a new feeling of freedom -- i can eat what i want, i tell myself. so, i'm chomping pretzels before bed, pumpkin pie after dinner, a burrito for lunch, a muffin for breakfast -- who is this hungry person?

how much will i gain?

my perfect sister is coming to town at christmas. i don't see her that often, but when i do, she's always the same -- tiny, fit and so pretty. she's naturally tiny can eat whatever she wants and not gain weight. the woman looked flawless in a bikini three weeks after giving birth. oh, AND she got the good hair. what's fair about that?!

my sister was a cheerleader. she had lots of boyfriends and cool friends. she married a lovely wealthy doctor, who's father lives in Monaco. they visit every summer. they have two wonderful, wonderful children.

i was a fat, pimply loner, who started dating at 30 and had my first boyfriend at 34. and I got the( very) frizzy hair. i needed braces and a dermatologist. and i got dragged to weight watcher, diet doctors, behavior modification specialist. enough said.

i sighed to my boyfriend this morning, "i have 27 days to lose ten pounds before she gets here."

"no", he said. "don't lose any weight. you look beautiful and perfect the way you are."

he gets extra credit galore. and okay, i'll keep doing the work -- i look fine, i look fine, i look...

i do look fine. and eating real food is....delicious.

it occurs to me that this weight struggle is ridiculous. what a waste of my time. but i'm so used to worrying about weight and food intake, i'm almost not sure what to do with myself.

next project -- expanding my life.

134

134. i gained 8 pounds in california. but i don't care. i can't believe i don't care, but i really don't.

i'm fine. my boyfriend certainly didn't notice anything during our reunion last night. the extra pounds didn't seem to bother him at all. at all.

life feels a little easier. i'm still thinking about my weight, but then i'm letting it go. the obsession isn't as strong. i'm strangely calm.

gotta go. heading to philadelphia for turkey day dinner.

hope this calm lasts. may everyone feel it.

breaking all my rules

in california, i'm on the strangest schedule for me. Up at 5:15 am (whoa!) and in bed by 10 (just about the time i usually have the most energy.)

i hate the morning - i'm always nauseous and cranky. and something about having to function that early wakes up my ED and sets him rolling.

in california, i've been eating THREE meals a day, including BREAKFAST. lunch at noon. dinner's been 6 pm or EARLIER. and i've eaten.

anyone who's read this blog for a while knows that i like to (or like it when i) skip breakfast. i wait to eat lunch until as late as possible, and the meal is light, light, light. dinner's best after 10.

it's been challenging, but i've been too tired to put up a fight here. my pants are tighter, my stomach's always squealing and bloated, and i'm obsessing about the weight i've gained.

still, i'm leaving it alone. i eat half a muffin for breakfast. a turkey sandwich and salad for lunch. soup, salad and shrimp for dinner. and a candy bar. or something like that. i know it's not a lot or unhealthy, but it's way more than i eat, especially day after day.

i'm getting home (plane delays not included) very late tomorrow night. thursday is the day i need to stay off the scale, so i let myself enjoy a meal with my family on Thanksgiving.

friday -- we'll see. i need to take things one moment at a time -- i'd like to be comfortable with more weight and more food. well, we'll see.

i called this post "breaking all my rules", but i should say i'm breaking all my food rules. i'm still a law-abiding citizen, a loyal friend, a serious liberal, etc.

i'm just eating more.

Eat Me

My eating disorder is very excited this morning. We're going to a nine hour convention, we'll have to stand on our blistered feet all day and it's going to be really, really boring. For nine hours.

I'm still in the hotel room, and already the little guy, my ED, is jumping up and down. he knows that the day will be filled with opportunities for him to whine and cajole about food. The convention starts at 8, so we can start there. I can hear him now.

"You ate an early dinner last so you must be ready to eat again. Uhm, can you smell the muffins at the restaurant, conveniently located right next to our booth? Isn't that great, we'll be right here by the restaurant for the whole nine hours -- today and tomorrow. Bravo!"

I'll put him off the first time, but we know he'll start in again, right? Probably around 8:10.

"But Melissa, you're tired. Eating will perk you up, even if you're not hungry at all."

I figure I'll be hearing from him about every ten minutes. or less. all day. both days.

Wish me luck.