Fight Don't Starve.

The press paints the picture that I got this role and now I'm awesome. But the truth is that I've been awesome, and then I got this role.

- Gabourey Sidibe

Now that ladies and gents, is an inspiring example of self confidence. What's with celebrities saying such wise things lately? Not that I'm complaining in the slightest! Next thing you know Lindsay Lohan will be quoting Sartre to the paparazzi. 

Doubt it.

Whew, yesterday was quite a day. Alright, so on Tuesday I went to my dietician appointment where she added a hefty increase to my meal plan. I managed to rationalize procrastinating implementing it for a few days before deciding to bite the bullet (among other things) and just do the damn thing. I can come up with a million justifications not to, but ultimately I know it's the right thing. It doesn't matter what other eating disordered people are doing or weigh, this is my life and I don't want to live like this anymore. And yes, I'm going to keep telling myself that until I believe it. Definitely doesn't make it any easier though. I look at old Facebook pictures from Disneyland and Warped Tour this past summer when was just out of treatment and at a healthy weight. Yes I remember feeling anxious, but that's a constant. However, I also remembering feeling happy and having fun. I wasn't miserable in my body. It wasn't that bad, so why is the concept of being that size again so terrifying?

Anyways, as the day progressed and the moment of truth grew closer I was feeling increasingly panicked and freaky out-y. My mom and I took Rosie outside and she (my mother, not the dog) said the people in out apartment complex must think I'm a freak because of "my addictions." These words are coming from the mouth of a woman who, according to my sister, "works out six hours a day in order to feel alive and has to tape her kneecaps into place to keep them from fucking falling off." Shortly afterwards my mom snuck guiltily into her bedroom and closed the door. When I followed she was on her stationary bike, pedaling away like a madwoman. It's hard enough to know someone is exercising when I'm not, but eating while listening triggered me like a revolver.  I kept going back into the room with lame excuses like "Rosie wants you to pet her!" and "Your cell phone is ringing," desperate to get her off the machine. Funny how just asking her to stop didn't cross my mind. It would have been too devastating because sadly I doubt she would have. 

Livid, I sat down to eat. My head was screaming at me to restrict, not add the dreaded extra calories in order to punish her. But deep down I knew my Mom wouldn't even know what I was doing (being in the other room and all) and ultimately the only person I'd be hurting was myself. I ate what I was supposed to, snotting and dripping tears all over the kitchen table. Attractive, eh? But better than hurting myself in a passive aggressive attempt to "get back at her." That's no better than a toddler throwing a tantrum by holding their breath. And I ain't no toddler. I'm not giving her or anyone else the power to effect whether or not I take care of myself anymore. So here I am. Freaking out doesn't even begin to describe it. I'm terrified, but also a teensy bit proud. Mostly terrified though. 

True that.

Speaking of not starving this lovely lady is giving away some Chobani... You know you want to give it a shot!

If I were a _______, I would be.....

Jewelry- watch

Sport- swimming

Gift- banana bread

Form of Artistic Expression- paint

Drink- absinthe/mind eraser

Fabric-satin brocade