No, I have not hit a new low weight-wise, but emotionally. I went in for just an ordinary doctor appointment to discuss switching birth control pills and so I can get a clearance for physical activity. Ever since I have been going in for weekly weight-checks, the nurses have known to make sure I don’t see my weight. Well the retarded nurse today must have let the fact that I am a recovering anorexic slip her mind because it was written on the “receipt” that I got to take home with me.
I thought I was going to have a breakdown in the office, but I managed to hold myself together until I got out the door. I broke down and sobbed for a good hour. My weight is the highest it has been in my entire life. What is going on here? How can I be so high above the goal weight that my doctors medically set for me? How could they have let me get to this point? I am absolutely disgusted with myself. Excuse the mention of numbers, but my goal weight is 40 pounds below where I am right now. My jaw is on the floor and I am just begging myself to have the willpower to stop stuffing food in it.
Javier has been awesome through all this, reminding me how beautiful I am, but right now, knowing the number I feel like I have tattooed on my forehead, beautiful is the last thing I would describe myself as. I have lost all self control.
I want to go to my dietitian and get a concrete meal plan laid out that will help me get back down to where I need to be. I want to go meet my trainer and get an exercise plan to help me get back down to where I need to be. I want to meet with my therapist as soon as possible so this anxiety, stress and overflow of emotions doesn’t turn back into restriction and starvation. I know I already didn’t eat as I should have at dinner, but I just couldn’t handle eating at the moment. I couldn’t finish a bowl of chicken soup. I felt like I was going to explode. I just sat there comparing myself to everyone at my table, everyone in the dining hall, everyone that I had come into contact with that day. I hate it.
I want this fucking eating disorder to just leave. I am racked with guilt and shame that I even got myself into this situation in the first place. I want to stay in bed and never get out for the rest of my life. I want to live in sweatpants because only one pair of jeans fit me.