Little Black Dress

Four weeks and four weekly food plans adhered to.

28 days and not a single step onto a set of scales.

One month of crazy emotions, spiralling back and forth. Happy then sad. Feeling weak and then strong, and quite frankly? … I’m exhausted.

I’m incredibly happy though that my boyfriend decided to educate himself about eating disorders. I don’t even think my family did that when they found out and I do feel the benefit of having support from someone already more educated about the feelings we with ED’s go through.

He understands how draining it is for me and appreciates that.

In turn, I truly appreciate ho much support he is trying to give me.

He took my scales away. I told him to, when I got the strength to tell him I needed his help 4 weeks ago and 28 days later, I’m starting to feel proud that I asked for help. I can’t explain how cathartic it is to be able to talk through every thought that goes through my head pretty much every day. Not one day goes by where that Demon doesn’t rear it’s ugly head but since asking for that support, I’ve had it every minute, whenever I’ve needed it.

I don’t want to exhaust him though and I do experience those fears that he’s going to leave or treat me like everyone else did whenever I opened up…but he’s simply there and to be honest, that’s all I need.

He knows that now too.

That sometimes you just need someone there.

Just to listen to your thoughts and fears or to hold your close and wipe away your tears.

It’s an incredibly safe feeling to know that he is there.

We spent one afternoon at the shops. An activity I would never usually get up to because of all the mirrors reflecting my flaws or the tight clothes that don’t fit me because of my weight…but we went.

I saw this cute little dress and decided to try it on, convinced the last small wouldn’t fit me at all. I mean, between all of us, regardless of my weight I do have a hefty chest…34DD-DDD…and sometimes, that chest is half the battle for me mentally. Being short with a big bust would make shopping hard in the first place let alone with an ED in the mix!

Anyway, back from the tangent! I went slightly gloomily to the dressing room and it fit. And I, for once, wasn’t ’embarrassed’ of my ‘huge chest’ that was a little bit on display.

I actually felt so confident I walked right out of the dressing room there and then to show him. His face when he turned around said it all and in that moment I was so so happy.

It didn’t take long for the Demon to rear it’s ugly head mind and I couldn’t bring myself to buy it. As silly as that sounds. All these negative thoughts came running and instead of that awesome feeling I felt when I put it on, I just felt overweight and ugly.

Back on the hanger it went.

Fast forward a week or so later, our usual weekly visit to see one another and he told me he had a surprise….he came out with a hanger carrying that little black dress.

He said, he didn’t buy it because it looked great on me but, rather, I had looked so happy twirling around the dress looked ten times better than it already did and he didn’t want me not to have it, to miss out on that feeling of happiness when I put it on.

I think I smiled in silence for about ten minutes straight after that.

A small gesture that was actually so thoughtful and really meaningful. I couldn’t be happier.

I picked a good egg, that’s for sure. X

Hunger Battles

I don’t remember exactly when eating three moderately sized meals became the wrong thing to do.

When did eating regularly become such a foreign habit?

My specially picked, hand drawn up weekly food plans seem to take a lifetime to plan and sticking to them feels like I’m trying to swim through mud Monday to Sunday.

I know I’ve picked healthy balanced meals but when it comes to meal times, I’m simply not hungry.

I don’t feel a hunger pain that I’m deliberately ignoring but I just feel nothing. In fact, I spend most of the week feeling full, contrary to the reality of what I’m actually eating.

I did it though, I followed the plan and ate at the times I was supposed to. The exact meal I had committed to preparing and despite not feeling hungry, I ate.

I ate because deep down I knew I was supposed to.

But friday was tough. I got to friday morning and after crying at most meal times for eating when I didn’t feel hungry, I woke up starving.

And I mean starving.

And as my hunger started to wake up I started to panic for an opposite reason.

I spent my week scared because I was eating without feeling that hunger pain and now I was panicking because I finally felt that hunger pain telling me that I should eat.

I’ve spent so many years, more than a third of my life, convinced hunger was the enemy. I spent those years believing that ignoring the hunger made me strong.

A constant battle of second-guessing whether I am hungry or not.

A battle of, am I actually hungry? Surely that hunger pain means I’m greedy. Ignoring it will make me stronger….turns into the next battle of, I don’t feel hungry so why would I eat? Am I being weak for eating when I don’t feel hungry? 

A battle that seems to want to spiral out of control. But I’ve managed to keep it under control this week, even though there were a few bumps along the way.

Simply because there isn’t a hunger pang doesn’t mean my body doesn’t need nourishment…

I’m proud of this week. I purged once but otherwise stuck to my plans despite the fear.

I’ll be speaking to my old therapist over the phone in a couple of days. A call that has been organised due to my recent relapse. We’ll be discussing the big question of whether or not I should start seeing a new therapist down here. Part of me think that means I’ve failed. Part of me is scared to open up from scratch. Part of me thinks it could be good to have that professional support here when I need it.

A lot of things to think about this weekend but a lot of positive actions to praise myself for too.

Happy weekend x