A glutton is what I have been this week. I restricted pretty hardcore during the day, and then at night, every night this week, I’ve compulsively overate. I didn’t binge, at least, I don’t think I had enough calories on any given night to consider it a “binge,” but I definitely ate well more than I intended on foods I never thought I would binge on. Remember when I said I emptied the house of all the binge foods? Well, it looks like when the urge hits, I’ll binge on just about anything. Yogurt, almonds, cheese, goldfish crackers…things I never took second glances at when there was other stuff in the house (like chocolate or cookies). So nothing is safe — other than fruits or vegetables, I guess I’ll scarf down anything if my body is in binge mode.
So needless to say I feel like a fat cow. I’ve been hovering around 81/82 pounds all week. My goal was to get below 80 pounds and thought it would be easy with my husband gone, but that, of course, backfired. I’m ten times more likely to binge when he’s not here. I should also rephrase that first part — I don’t feel like a fat cow. I feel like a disgusting compulsive eater who can’t stop eating. I feel like a shameful glutton who can’t put the food down. As I inhaled goldfish crackers today while standing up over the counter in the kitchen, I didn’t even finish swallowing handful before I put another handful down my throat. I chewed so fast and so hard today my jaw literally started hurting, and even so, I went back for more. A bowl of nachos, granola cereal, shredded cheese, ice cream, vanilla mini-wheats…and it wasn’t even dinner time.
I felt the urge about 45 minutes before I got home from work. I logged onto tumblr, saw some food porn, realized I was famished, and high-tailed it out of work with the notion I was going to go home and binge. As soon as my hand touched the handle of our office building door, I was in a mad frenzy to get home. Traffic was unbearable and I couldn’t wait until I could put food in my mouth. Even before I got into my driveway I felt a sense of calmness rush over me — I was home, home at last, and I could finally eat all the food I wanted. And I did.
When my husband got home, on top of feeling guilty for bingeing (I pretty much felt like I had just did a whole bunch of cocaine), he walks in with this sad look on his face. I ask him what’s wrong, and he tells me that he just followed an ambulance in to our subdivision and started getting worried when he followed it down our street. He thought the ambulance may have been for me, and when he realized it wasn’t, he was relieved and realized that even through hard times, at least we have each other. I hugged him, but of course, the guilt was still there. What if that ambulance HAD been for me? I not only would have worried him sick, but it would have been devastating, a slap in the face to our relationship, and we’d also have to front a bunch of money we don’t have. (We are literally BROKE right now…don’t even have money in our account for gas…thanks to my blood tests!)
And yet I continue to tell myself I’m fine.
I feel so incredibly disgusting that I’m going to take the last of the laxatives I have. Tomorrow I will start fresh. I’ve decided to up my calories and eat 750 calories a day to keep me functional (anything less and I will have a repeat of this past week). I will try to eat healthy foods, or as healthy as possible (we don’t have enough money to go buy groceries and we our out of a lot of stuff). I don’t feel clean and I want to feel CLEAN. I don’t know if I will gain weight or lose weight or maintain weight. At this point in time, I don’t really care. Actually, that’s not true, but I’d rather do damage control now instead of try to undo all the bingeing. Bingeing just leads to hardcore restricting which leads to bingeing again. If I want to do this, I have to do this right. Which means upping the calories to alleviate the horrid urges to binge. I figure if I eat under my BMR or whatever, I will lose eventually. Just not as quick as I’d like.
I’m considering going to get put on meds again. I’ve decided I’m either depressed or on the verge of becoming depressed. Things just aren’t the same anymore, and I feel like I have no emotions at all. No desire to be sexual, no desire to talk to anybody, no desire to clean the house, no desire to put on make up, no desire to work, no desire to pay bills…nothing. It’s getting pretty bad.
A glutton is what I have been this week. I restricted pretty hardcore during the day, and then at night, every night this week, I’ve compulsively overate. I didn’t binge, at least, I don’t think I had enough calories on any given night to consider it a “binge,” but I definitely ate well more than I intended on foods I never thought I would binge on. Remember when I said I emptied the house of all the binge foods? Well, it looks like when the urge hits, I’ll binge on just about anything. Yogurt, almonds, cheese, goldfish crackers…things I never took second glances at when there was other stuff in the house (like chocolate or cookies). So nothing is safe — other than fruits or vegetables, I guess I’ll scarf down anything if my body is in binge mode.
So needless to say I feel like a fat cow. I’ve been hovering around 81/82 pounds all week. My goal was to get below 80 pounds and thought it would be easy with my husband gone, but that, of course, backfired. I’m ten times more likely to binge when he’s not here. I should also rephrase that first part — I don’t feel like a fat cow. I feel like a disgusting compulsive eater who can’t stop eating. I feel like a shameful glutton who can’t put the food down. As I inhaled goldfish crackers today while standing up over the counter in the kitchen, I didn’t even finish swallowing handful before I put another handful down my throat. I chewed so fast and so hard today my jaw literally started hurting, and even so, I went back for more. A bowl of nachos, granola cereal, shredded cheese, ice cream, vanilla mini-wheats…and it wasn’t even dinner time.
I felt the urge about 45 minutes before I got home from work. I logged onto tumblr, saw some food porn, realized I was famished, and high-tailed it out of work with the notion I was going to go home and binge. As soon as my hand touched the handle of our office building door, I was in a mad frenzy to get home. Traffic was unbearable and I couldn’t wait until I could put food in my mouth. Even before I got into my driveway I felt a sense of calmness rush over me — I was home, home at last, and I could finally eat all the food I wanted. And I did.
When my husband got home, on top of feeling guilty for bingeing (I pretty much felt like I had just did a whole bunch of cocaine), he walks in with this sad look on his face. I ask him what’s wrong, and he tells me that he just followed an ambulance in to our subdivision and started getting worried when he followed it down our street. He thought the ambulance may have been for me, and when he realized it wasn’t, he was relieved and realized that even through hard times, at least we have each other. I hugged him, but of course, the guilt was still there. What if that ambulance HAD been for me? I not only would have worried him sick, but it would have been devastating, a slap in the face to our relationship, and we’d also have to front a bunch of money we don’t have. (We are literally BROKE right now…don’t even have money in our account for gas…thanks to my blood tests!)
And yet I continue to tell myself I’m fine.
I feel so incredibly disgusting that I’m going to take the last of the laxatives I have. Tomorrow I will start fresh. I’ve decided to up my calories and eat 750 calories a day to keep me functional (anything less and I will have a repeat of this past week). I will try to eat healthy foods, or as healthy as possible (we don’t have enough money to go buy groceries and we our out of a lot of stuff). I don’t feel clean and I want to feel CLEAN. I don’t know if I will gain weight or lose weight or maintain weight. At this point in time, I don’t really care. Actually, that’s not true, but I’d rather do damage control now instead of try to undo all the bingeing. Bingeing just leads to hardcore restricting which leads to bingeing again. If I want to do this, I have to do this right. Which means upping the calories to alleviate the horrid urges to binge. I figure if I eat under my BMR or whatever, I will lose eventually. Just not as quick as I’d like.
I’m considering going to get put on meds again. I’ve decided I’m either depressed or on the verge of becoming depressed. Things just aren’t the same anymore, and I feel like I have no emotions at all. No desire to be sexual, no desire to talk to anybody, no desire to clean the house, no desire to put on make up, no desire to work, no desire to pay bills…nothing. It’s getting pretty bad.