I am revolting, and disgusting, and minging, and horrible, and every other disgustingly revolting word under the sun. I am 8 stone, 6 pounds. WTF. What is that? That is a horrible weight. That is just horrible. I don't know how I even let myself get into the 8's, let alone nearly halfway through. Yes, sure, I want to be happy, and healthy, and un-burdened by an eating disorder, or whatever, but with that weight? No. I can't do it. I need to be back in the 7's. And I'm sure I can do it healthily. Look's like I'm going to have to bring out the food monitoring again. I just don't know.
You know what, I'm even ashamed to go to this ED workshop today and talk about my 'experiences' and everything else when there are going to be all of these other people that have suffered from an eating disorder, rather than my vague and pathetic excuse and attempt of one, where they were genuinely ill, and I'm just some fat lump. FAT fat fat. I genuinely feel horrible right about now. I can feel my belly bulging over my jeans... did somebody say muffin top?
I hate myself.
I'm so glad I'm walking in today, try and burn off some of those unwanted and unnecessary calories. Also, I'll be distracted today = less eating.
I physically, physically, physically hate myself.
In more positive news, I am loving this new Ian... Or maybe now that life is a bit calmer, he's always felt like this, but doesn't get so stressed all the time, and because I feel happier about it, I'm not so infuriating all the time. Who knows, who cares... All I can say is that I like it...
Which, whilst writing this, makes me completely wonder about what I've just said, because if Ian loves me, then it doesn't matter what my weight is right?
I DON"T KNOW.
Maaaaaah.
I do love him though <3
