But the whole time, in the back of my mind, I knew I was going to pay for it later. I suppose this is what we call a binge. I binged long and hard. I didn't even run.
Then Monday rolled around and I stepped on the scale... I actually felt my heart speed up. Ugh. Water weight. I know it's water weight. Even the food that was still in my stomach was adding weight that would be gone by the next day. I know all this, but still the number on the scale effectively ended my binge and sent me straight in to a fast day.
I didn't even know I was going to fast yesterday. I didn't mean to. I kept telling myself I needed to eat, but I just couldn't bring myself to. The sight of food made me feel ill. My stomach burned and growled all day long - but I just had no desire to eat. I was stuck in a very frustrating cycle; telling myself I needed to eat, going to find something to eat, not being able to make myself eat, realizing that it doesn't make a bit of difference anyway - I'm fat no matter what I do, and then telling myself I need to it... it went on and on. Same as every day I guess.
I tried to run... but could barely get out two miles. Me - the one who's training for a marathon. Me - the one who runs ten miles easily and just stops because she's run out of time. After two miles, I was done. No energy. I know I'm hurting myself. I know I am.
It's almost 1. I still haven't eaten... and I don't know when I will. Someone, please help me.
Somehow I lost control for the first time in a very long time over the weekend. I don't know how much I ate and I don't even want to know. All I know was that I felt normal for a couple days. It felt good eating out with my boyfriend. It felt good making myself a plate of food and knowing I was going to eat it. I let myself go crazy...