Skinny Doesn’t Have To Mean Sick
I alluded to this post in this week’s Marvelous In My Monday. Now, I don’t like the word “skinny” because I think it’s too often used as a stupid label. So I hope this post’s title doesn’t turn anyone off. But it was the first one that came to mind and I couldn’t think of a better alternative. And despite my aversion for the word “skinny”, I have to be honest…it’s what I want to be. The desire to be skinny, stay skinny, get skinny, is in my head for a good chunk of each day. A much larger chunk than I’d like. But since I’m still in recovery, I guess that’s what I have to deal with. I just hope there’s an end point to that.
I had a really good conversation with my therapist on Friday, during which she brought up an excellent point. I was telling her about last Wednesday night and how I got really full at dinner and almost had to make sure that I felt guilty about it afterwards. Why? So that I wouldn’t “be bad” again. I went through the exact same thing after my trip to Boston (and the restaurant hopping it included) over the weekend. There were actually a few moments on Sunday when I felt like I could easily push the ED thoughts aside and just move on with my day, but as soon as that notion entered my mind I felt a panic. How could I allow myself to feel the self love that I’d need to feel to push the thoughts aside and recognize that I deserve to enjoy life? In my mind that would only mean one thing…weight gain.