I'm having a hard time not cheating.
I want everything I can't have. It's frustrating.
I want pizza.
I want texture more than taste. It isn't sweets I crave (they all taste too sweet), but I crave the sweet salty chewy crunchy soft texture of the cookie bars I made.
Cheese, eggs, whipped cream, meat, vegetables - they're missing the texture that grains give you.
The chewy yeast of bread. The sweet salty.
I'm going through something, and it happens.
I went to my doctor. She had nothing. Nothing but words. Words like:
It's hard. A lifelong struggle.
That's why we're trying to stop kids young from getting obese, so they don't have to deal with the horrors of losing weight.
Once your body spends a considerable amount of time at a certain weight it struggles to stay there, no matter where you're at.
Your body is struggling. It's accustomed to being out of whack, being super obese, eating thousands of calories. Damaged. You're asking it to go without and it doesn't want to. You're asking it to stabilize after changing it significantly. It doesn't want to. So, you're "normal" might feel extreme. Your blood sugar is normal - but your body feels it as abnormal.
It's so hard.
You're probably depressed at a life you can't live anymore - even if it was uncomfortable. It was your normal, and it's not anymore. Even if you feel better in your clothes, you're making a sacrifice of what your lifestyle was before and that in itself can feel depressing for a while.
Literally every single word of what she was saying makes sense. All of it. It's the bottom line that sucks.
The bottom line that there's no medicine that can help me. There's nothing "wrong" with me that can be fixed. It's as hard as having an addiction to a pill, but that pill I still have to swallow each day - but not too many.
I have to take what I'm addicted to, I just can't overdose or I'll suffer the consequences.
Food makes me feel a certain way. If I could eat intuitively, I'd be fine. But I don't. I eat and my brain kicks off in ways that aren't normal. Even if it's not happening, it's there, bubbling below the surface.
I wish a lot of things. I'd almost rather be addicted to pills or something that didn't make me fat. Something I could abstain from and not have to have. It's impossible to have this addiction to something that comes in numerous forms, tastes good, and in the end I HAVE TO HAVE TO SURVIVE.
A kid in a candy store. Two pieces, that's it.
An addict with a mountain of cocaine in front of her. One sniff, no more.
A gambler in a casino. Two rolls of the dice and you're done. Once every four hours. No more.
A sex addict in a pornography shop.
She prescribed Prozac for my PMS. The band-aid for disasters.
When things are good, they are decent. I'm able to beat this, and lose weight. But when they're bad, it's on the tip of my brain, festering every second, and my daily life is affected. My work. My home. My family. My friends. My inability to DO. To stay afloat.
I hope this passes, as it does sometimes, and I'm able to get back on the ride, lose some more weight. But right now all I want to do is shove my face like you don't even know how badly. It sucks.