So many questions..will I ever stop feeling guilty about eating AT ALL?

I’m back! Because OBVIOUSLY you want to hear more from me after reading that ton of words below this. I welcome you with open arms, but first – I need to keep talking.

So, I believe we established that now I’m not eating in an unhealthy manner, as such – I eat a small breakfast, a piece of fruit every lunchtime, and a reasonably large dinner. Because I want to lose weight, quickly, but I also don’t wanna mess with my blessed metabolism.

Anyway. God, as I wrote the last post, I’d keep thinking ‘You know what? I don’t even care anymore. I’m just gonna go downstairs and eat some crackers and French onion dip, or make myself a milkshake, or something, AND eat dinner tonight, and have tea and a square of chocolate after that. Fuck my stupid weird diet type thing, I crave food.’

And I’d be about to do it, too – and then…I’d remember. I’d remember the guilt.

The guilt is an awful thing. I hate it so much. I keep telling myself, no, look, you’re going back to eating normally today. Food is too good to give up. Stop feeling guilty, you don’t have to feel guilty! And then I’ll eat something, or even just be about to eat something…and it hits me again. No. No. You can’t eat. Not now, that’s too many calories. Or sure, eat this – but no dinner for you, idiot. Pig. Don’t you know how many kilojoules there are in that slice of toast with Nutella you’re eating as an afternoon snack, because the only thing you ate at school all day was half a banana?

It sucks.

I just want to go back to being able to eat pancakes, just once, within my caloric limit for the day – without feeling so GODDAMN GUILTY.

It’s funny, because I feel like I have just about no idea what I want – do I really favour food over a perfectly flat stomach? Do I really feel good about myself when I have self-control? I can’t tell, I honestly can’t. I haven’t had the milkshake I promised myself I’d have when I got home – am I glad, or not? Am I happy I showed self control? Sad that I didn’t get delicious milkshake-y goodness? Do I think I should let myself have it to help keep my metabolism normal? Or should I not have it to lose weight as quickly as possible?

It’s so very frustrating, not being able to tell! Do I WANT to not feel guilty after all? Maybe it’s good – if I didn’t feel so guilty, I’d eat more and be fat. And yet…the guilt is horrific. My dad yelled at me for not eating enough (worrying that I’ll develop anorexic tendencies), my mum says I’m too skinny to lose much more weight – do I trust them? I want to, of course…but I don’t think I do. What will I do when I’m older? If I successfully lose this weight, can I return to eating happily?

Is it maybe better for me to eat my fill now, while I’m young and fit, and give up on feeling perfectly skinny, because there’s always going to be someone skinnier than me, and skinny isn’t actually the best of looks? There’s a big one. Will I ever be satisfied with my appearance? Am I allowed to let myself be imperfect while I’m 15, and to make sure I exercise when I’m older? I want so many answers.

You can’t imagine the joy I feel when I see that my collarbones are prominently displayed by my skinniness. Or when I put on a dress with a cinched waist and see the hourglass effect. Or just standing in my bikini, seeing that my waist goes in naturally, without a belt to make it do that.

It thrills me, it makes me so ridiculously happy…

but the obsession with my appearance works both ways.

I see the slight flab of my stomach when I turn sideways. I see my too-fat arms. I see my fat, fat legs when I sit down. I bend over in a bikini and my stomach-fat hangs in an ungainly blob of shame and horror and all things bad.

And I hate it. Of course I do. I hate it, hate it so much.

In terms of outfits, I like the way I look in the mirror, usually – but then I go out and see these skinny people and think wow, nope, I failed. I’m not skinny enough, I’m just a hunk of meat and fat beside these people. And that dress I loved before? Hah. I must have been blind. It’s so ugly and even worse on ME.

Oh, the joys of being a teenager! Please, please tell me that I’ll get to leave this phase behind me, eventually?

At a family gathering, I hung out with my little cousin a bit – she’s 10 years old. She seemed really naive and innocent and almost stupidly childish to me (but nice, sweet too, I’m not trying to insult her) – when I asked Mum how old she was, I was surprised to hear she was 10 whole years old. I thought ‘Ha, I was so much more mature at that age!’ but then I thought I was being too hard on her, we always see the best of ourselves in the past after all – I was definitely not one of those annoying 5 year olds, of course not! None of us were! Makes you wonder who WAS, then…anyway. Then I thought a little harder, and I remembered that sure, I was really childish back then compared to now – but that was also when I first started to worry about how fat I was. Ten years old. I remember pinching my stomach and being upset at the thought of how I might get rid of it, desperately hoping it was this mythical ‘puppy fat’ that falls off without a single bit of effort on my part…but I’ve actually kept it, five years on. Sadly.

Anyway, just thinking about that made me feel a little sad about society. I wasn’t super concerned with my appearance back then, though I obviously liked to feel pretty, and yet I was already ashamed of my stomach. Good work, society. I suppose you’re just lamenting the fact that it took another 4 or so years for me to start feeling too guilty about eating to enjoy myself properly anymore whenever there’s food in the vicinity.

Ah.

I like to be angry at things.

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