HA! Finally. Upper thighs don't touch!! I'm at 110 at the moment...my body has decided to hover between 108-110 for a bit. I'm clearly at one of my many set points...I got below those, and I'll do the same now. Remember--your definition of thin and mine are very different.
Luckily, the nasty ball of wrinkly and stretched skin is less prominent that it has always been. My gut is the bane of my fucking existence. There is absolutely not a damn thing beautiful and/or natural about pregnancy and birth. I know I'm not alone in that thought either. Every woman has, at some point, either during or after pregnancy has been irritated by and fixated on the weight issue and/or their changing bodies. It's the whole pregnancy and c-section thing--that led me to become symptomatic in my eating disorder. The mindset was there as far back as I can remember...I just didn't engage in the behaviors until my first daughter was born.
Seriously. Just a few hours after my c-section, my one and only immediate task was to see what my stomach looked like. I had just eaten lunch. When I pulled back the covers and saw that fleshy thing...I was so disgusted with it and myself, so I leaned over the side of the bed and purged it. Simple and as quick as that...13 years later, I'm still obsessed with my stomach. I don't wear bathing suits...shorts...dresses...anything fitted. The only thing that's changed since then is the frequency. Well that and the education 13 years of puking has given me: purgability of different foods; how to relieve fluid retention quickly before I start freaking out about the temporary weight gain; and how to fix a stopped up toilet; oh yeah, and how to silently purge in public bathrooms with the person in the next stall completely unaware of what I'm doing...desperate times do indeed call for desperate measures. Yes I know that I'm disturbed, but this is my reality every fucking day, and I refuse to not talk about it.
Life is messy, emotions are messy, and people don't want to acknowledge that. They want to sweep shit under the rug and pretend like it isn't there...perfect on the outside, fucked up on the inside...not me. I have faults and weaknesses, and if you can't love me or care about me despite those things, then there is no place in my life for you. I've spent most of my life trying to be someone that I'm not for fear that I would be too much...too intense...too loud...too sad...too angry...and people would leave because of it. The truth is...the only opinion that really matters is my own. I have to live with me, and I have to be able to accept myself--the good and the bad. It does bother me sometimes that I can accept others' despite "flaws" and yet they can't do the same for me. But oh well...I guess that's just reality, right?
What the hell was my point? Shit. I can't remember, damn it. I'll think of it later and edit this post. This always happens. Imagine how funny it is in real life when I'm this scatterbrained!!!
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