Good news is, I now weigh 9 3/4 stone, only 1/4 stone more than I did before I got pregnant with my gorgeous son back in August 208.
Better news, I fitted into skinny jeans for the first time ever in my life, and didn't look like an idiot with thunder-thighs.
Bad news is... well... it's not exactly encouraging me to eat properly. Not eating gets me the results I want quickly, albeit slightly unhealthily.
The kind of better news, is that now I am feeling much thinner and better about myself, that I kind of feel like I can eat without feeling guilty. Or so I thought.
I just had 4 Ferrero Rocher, and felt so guilty, I couldn't stop the bile from rising up in my throat, thus leading me to the bathroom, from which I have just returned.
It's all very stupid really. On one hand, not eating is ridiculous, I know that, YOU know that, everybody knows that. I tell myself that when the little voice in my head says "Don't eat that sandwich. You'll get fatter." And sometimes it works.
But worryingly, more recently, I've been noticing that my response to that little voice of late is "You know... You might be right."
That little voice is like every bitchy girl I was in sixth form with, rolled into one.
*sigh*
I'm actually just randomly burbling really, jotting things down as they come in to my head. Best way, I suppose.
I mean, don't get me wrong, I LOVE cooking food. I love the process, I love seeing others eat and enjoy something I've put time and effort into preparing but eating it myself? Not so much.
I've even gotten to the point where I bargain with myself. I might be absolutely ravenous, but eating a whole meal would just create too much guilt. So I bargain, and just have a small something (a very small something). Or I won't let myself eat till I am so hungry, I gt a headache. Or I tell myself "You can eat in an hour."
It's so friggin' stupid.
How am I supposed to feel good in THIS skin, when I keep seeing how I SHOULD look...
For example...
Now, The Saturdays make some very catchy music. But LOOK how slim they all are! It actually makes me WANT to vomit.
Meh.
I'm finding that my pagan beliefs are helping me though, just keeping me strong when I really need it, and reminding me of good things in life... a job my son and soon-to-be-husband are doing quite well... apart from Reuben being oorly and sniffly and snotty and generally miserable, crotchety and bad-tempered. Poor little thing.
We think he's cutting his first tooth too, you can see the whiteness in his gum.
Anyway, I'd better go and see to my little Troll-Baby...
Laters,
Em, x
