The other day I posted about a few complications that come with having an eating disorder. I spoke about how the cycle is continuous and hard to break. How I feel sick when I don’t eat and then sick when I do. I’ve since eaten and felt worse.
On Sunday, I ate more in a day than I have done for a while. I started off with a quarter of a waffle, (proper pushed the boat out with breakfast), it wasn’t a small waffle, but one that took up the entire big plate. It made me feel overwhelmed and stuffed just from looking at it. However, despite the fact that I don’t eat breakfast, I still managed to eat something because I knew I was travelling today. I tried not too overeat as that would make me feel sick so I stopped when I felt full not that it took that much. Lunchtime I had managed to eat a whole double cheese burger from McDonald’s, something I had failed to do the day before (I only managed half) and a handful of chips. For dinner, I ate most of a roast dinner. However that’s when my body had decided I had eaten too much and I was sick. I felt totally guilty because it was a lovely meal cooked by Katie who is Kieran’s step mum. Within minutes of finishing the meal or at least as much as I could, I was running upstairs to puke and was sick two or three times.
Now, I don’t know how many others with eating disorders do this, but I have found that my body gets overwhelmed by a big plate. My brain tells me that there’s too much food on the plate and I feel like a pig, even if it’s a small portion on a big plate. I also cannot stand knowing or seeing my weight. My brain could read that I weigh less than 8 stone and I’d still think I was overweight. It stems from people calling me fat even though I’ve never been bigger than a size ten (unless I was pregnant. But that doesn’t actually count). They made me feel like I had to watch what I ate and watched the weight I put on. That’s not acceptable.
I also have a huge problem with stepping on scales. I refused to have scales in our home because it scares me. I’m scared that I’m going to step on the scales and it will read out fatty, (not likely to happen but still, my brain likes to overwork) or they would break. I hate knowing how much I weigh because I’m scared that I’d starve myself or overeat to the point of sickness. Now, the sickness isn’t intentional however at one point, it was. My body got so used to throwing up after eating that it would be an almost instant reaction, sort of like today. However, I stepped on a set of scales regardless. I weighed myself without being asked and without even thinking. I guess you could say curiosity got the better of me. And I hated seeing that it was less than 8 stone. Because even though I think that anything over 8 and a half stone is too big and under 8 is unhealthy, I can’t help but feel like it’s a battle I’m losing. Yet, today, I weighed just over 7 stone and that’s not good.
So I’m gonna start a food journal. I’m going to try and encourage my body to eat little and often. And once a month, I’m gonna review my weight and what I’ve eaten. Hopefully, I’ll be able to put some weight on before I start to turn it into muscle. Because this year, I want to be healthy.
Thank you for reading. And I hope you all have a great day. Ferrari ❤️