It’s true. I looked in the mirror yesterday, and felt happy with myself. I am shrinking, slowly but healthily. Still eating a lot but eating the right things – fruit, vegetables, home cooked food so I know what goes in it.
But then I am looking in the mirror right now, about to go on the second date with Chris, and I feel fat, disgusting, vile. I want to cry. How did I let myself get like this? I don’t know whether to cancel. Nothing I put on looks any better. My hair won’t do what I want it to. I don’t want him to see me like this. I feel like I need to purge, to throw up the food I have in my stomach. No matter how hard I try to fight my demons, they always rear their heads when I am weak and vulnerable to them. It’s true I won’t truly be happy until I am thin. I can kid myself by saying my happiness isn’t related to what I look like, but that isn’t true. It’s lies. Once eating disordered, always eating disordered.