I feel so hopeless. It’s been a year now that I’ve worn this weight… and no matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to get rid of it. I was up to 156 lbs. (finals…) when I finally managed to stop myself. I restricted for two weeks (never more than 500 calories) and am now weighing in at 148 lbs – on an empty stomach. I was down to 145 lbs. before my two-day binge-a-thon.
It’s just so unfair. I was doing so well and out of nowhere lost my grip. Now I’m leaving for the Christmas holidays and spending a week at my grandma’s house. I know there will be food… and I know I’m going to gain the weight that I had lost, back.
I desperately wanted to break the thirties before I saw my brother again. He’s in the Air Force Academy and I’m sure he’s as skinny and fit as they come. I know, furthermore, that he’s going to rub it in. He’s beautiful. He’s intelligent. He’s everything I’m not. My family adores him and reserves their contempt for me. I’ve never done anything in my life to compete with his obvious superiority… yet… I keep hoping that someday I might beat him.
So, new plan. If I weigh 148 lbs. today, that means I should be 146 lbs. when I leave for holiday. By the end of the week, I should be approximately 142 lbs. By Christmas, if everything goes according to plan, I should indeed break the thirties at 138 lbs. It’s not the best… but it’s ten pounds. You can’t ask for a better Christmas gift. I can do this. I just need to keep myself motivated and stocked with chewing gum. Where there is an absence of either soda or gum, there is room for failure.
I am an adult. Grandma can’t make me eat. I’m an adult. Grandma cannot make me eat. I’m an adult. I’m on a diet. I’m trying to “eat healthy”. Grandma cannot make me eat! I’m an adult, damn it!
