Fuck You, Italy; I've Always Hated You For a Reason: Day 7

I have a confession to make: I don't like Italian food. Never have, never will. It's just never appealed to my palate. Marinara sauce? Pass. Fettucine alfredo? No, thanks. And don't even get me started about my thoughts on spaghetti.

So, here at Harmony Grove they do this cute little thing called "challenge meals", where they take something super-duper fattening that will give you thunder thighs, flabby arms, and a huge ass, and they make you eat it. And tonight it was FIVE CHEESE RAVIOLI NIGHT!!

And you know the WORST part of it? IT WAS MY NIGHT TO COOK. I CONTRIBUTED TO MY OWN FATNESS! Ugh! I'm so frustrated I just want to cry right now. I was having a really good day, once again feeling positive, and now, I'm just really anxious. I can't sit still. All I'm thinking is "Must exercise. Must burn calories. NOW!" I'm also thinking other things, but Lord knows how I would get away with that. I'm too scared of authority to attempt anything.

And I'm also pissed that I care. WHY do I care so much? WHY?? Like, I have this weird obsession with not wanting my thighs to touch. I know on most people, when they stand at least, their thighs touch. This does not mean they're fat or overweight or unattractive. But for some reason, every day I look in the mirror and FREAK OUT at the thought of my thighs touching. I just don't want it to happen.

On another note, today I swear to God I woke up to the sound of someone barfing. It was more than a cough. Believe me, I know the sound. I was half conscious, and even had I been fully alert, I wouldn't have stormed in there and been like "STOP ACTING ON AN EATING DISORDER BEHAVIOR NOW! IT'S NOT ALLOWED!!" and I'd feel terrible for telling. So let's just hope it was the hacking of a phlegm ball or something of the sort rather than a bulimic episode.

That's the funny thing. Normal people might look at a stranger and think "Hmm...I wonder if they (insert quirk here. examples include "Have an accent." "Play a sport." "Know another language."). No, for me, it's "Bulimic or anorexic?? Hmm...they're not too, too disgustingly skinny, so probably bulimic. Or maybe binge eater before it got out of hand." Oh, my. The life I live.

But something that made me happy today: I put my jeans on....AND THEY FIT!! I was so excited. This definitely had a hand in my good mood today. However, who knows how long that'll last. Probably not after tonight, as I was forced to eat that fucking ravioli.

And I know we aren't supposed to see the caloric content of stuff (hence the duct tape) but the calories on the package weren't covered. The duct tape covered the fat, sugar, sodium, etc. content, but not the calories. And since I was cooking, I had no choice but to look at the back....

And I thought "FUCK! FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK ME HARD SHIT!" Thank God I didn't see the fat content. Sometimes, when I think of why the HELL I decided to come here in the first place, I feel like the choice of staying out in the real world vs. coming here was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place: you're fucked either way.

I really wonder if I'll ever accept myself. I've always had body image issues. Back when I was 13 and this whole saga started, I seemed to recover and forget about it for a few years. I guess it was always in the back of my head, the "You're fat. You're ugly. And it'll always be that way." but I was able to silence it enough that it didn't really have an effect.

Now? I don't think I'll be able to silence it. Not completely. Even if, in a few weeks or months or whenever I'm "cured", I doubt it will fade as much as it did before. I never thought I'd look back on my "fat years" as a time of bliss, but now, I'm just wishing I was in that state of mind again. Of being able to live my life and not obsess about weight and food and appearance.

However, I did talk to Meagan today, and I realized something: talking with her and Amber and Erica and Jen and Tom honestly make me feel better instantly. Even if I hang up with them while in tears, after bitching about "my horrible life WHY ME blah blah blah", I feel a lot better. I'm so grateful and thankful and lucky that I have people I can count on in times like these. I know they probably feel like they don't know what to say, but just telling me about what's going on in their lives at the moment (example: BIB OVERALLS) makes me laugh and feel better.

Uck. Just when I was getting used to the disgustingly large amount of food I have to consume every day, I had to eat this dinner and now I feel like shit. Maybe it's psychological. But I'm really antsy. Like I just crushed up a bunch of uppers and inhaled them or something. I just want to get out of my body right now, make it skinny again, and go back in. Because right now I can't stand to be in it.

I'm dreading these next 23 days.

3 weeks and 2 days.

And probably 100 lbs.

Fuck.