Fugue

Sorry I haven't posted anything sooner, but period cramps plus laxative abuse equals one distressed Jasmine. Did well eating-wise yesterday: ended up in the negative calorie zone. Yay. Weight's back under 160 now.

I came very close to fucking up last night. My husband and I stopped by a drive-thru on the way home, and I was very tempted to binge and blame it on my period. Like that freaking makes it okay. Anyway, there I was... stoned as hell, under heavy pressure, with all of those cheesy favorites I once knew accusingly staring right back at me. It was very close; I'm disgusted with my flimsy will power. BUT in the end I was a good girl, and thought about how my stomach would feel afterward - how fat and disgusting I'd be. I thought about how I'd look like all the obese people sitting inside, nom nom noming their lives away. So I settled for a couple small bites of my husband's deathwish to curb the cravings and was content for the night.

When these opportunities to fail arise, I need to stand firm and resolute. There should not be a moment's hesitation in my voice when I politely decline. The fact that there was even a possibility of me binging last night is ridiculous. Who the fuck do I think I am? Apparently I haven't been spending enough quality time in front of the mirror. It's really amazing that I can forget how fat I am with all of this shame draped over me, making my body jiggle and thighs brush together. A fucking miracle.

Okay, rant over. I survived. Go me. End of.

 

My belly hurts. I really wish I had some juice right now.

Edit: I found some juice!! Light cranberry, for the fucking win. :D