fat girl

during the holidays, as always, i worked like a crazy person. lots of doubles, few days off and erratic sleep all left little time to cook or even shop for raw snacks. this coincided with a period of making myself nuts tracking my food and weighing every morsel i ate, so i stopped. it was all too stark a reminder of the anorectic calorie-counting and food neurosis of past bouts.

i continued to shrink, to the point of pants dragging on the pavement, even though the scale didn't budge. i admit to eating treats i shouldn't have. cookies and candies were everywhere, including my own house. never gorged, but i'm not supposed to have any. staff meals were a challenge as they are typically a carbo-feast one day it was garbanzos, rice, french fries and chicken nuggets. just yukkkkkk. as a release and an excuse, my drinking increased too, especially the late-night, "just home and need to unwind, so i'll have a glass or 3..." habit, which i thought i had kicked. my weight didn't decrease, held steady, but i noticed my work shirts were much looser. still shrinking.

the scale's recalcitrance was making me despair, so i finally stopped weighing. my menstrual cycle also was behaving strangely so that increased my terror of digital truths.

holidays finished, work at a reasonably human pace, i got back on the scale a couple weeks back. the same. gaaaaaah.

only rational action is go back to basics. i have been bringing my lunch and getting a mostly good balance of what i "should have." (damn the skittles yesterday.) tracking my carbs. unrelated to my weight, i'm going on the wagon for awhile. (another post-- the pain remains too raw...) am very curious what will happen with this new eating and no booze. a few years back trying to cure my bird flu, i went dry for 9 days. it did not help my health, nor did i lose a pound or an inch. now i realize the weight stasis was due to my broken insulin response, so one of my 1st tangential thoughts on drying out really was to the see the difference.my consumption has been extreme for months now.

goal of a week dry and healthy foods before i dare chance the scale.

this morning, manipulating my naked body, the owner asked what i weighed for the 1st time in months. it must be worse than i thought. i swear to god, i can no longer tell what the fuck i look like when i see myself in the mirror. could i ever ? his question, not at all unreasonable, made me sick and embarrassed. we had set a goal weight for me, with particular and peculiar rewards. for ages it has felt like it will never come. i had given up daydreaming about the ministrations i crave under his hands. yet another failure.

he has recently met a woman he finds appealing and attractive. youngish, but not too very. he is again playing the bill clinton game of "define is" when asked by their mutual friends if he has a girlfriend. respective to our dynamic he absolutely does not, so with his semantic gymnastics, they hear he is not seeing anybody. which makes me nobody. she has met him twice now, while he was without me as an encumbrance, in very friendly environments and i imagine him to only have been charming and warm. each enjoying the others' company on an open playing field.

for him i was out of sight, out of mind, knee to knee with a fresh prospect.

for her, an attractive, intelligent and respectful, fun, SINGLE guy - jackpot.

for me, by his words, she is slim, pretty and perfect. all the things i will never be.