I will not cry in the coffee shop. I will not cry in the coffee shop.
I'll be house sitting for my parents for the next week or so. They're going to New Orleans, which will be great for them. I was just there a little over a month or two ago, and though I'm jealous and want to go back with them, I am more than happy to have their big, beautiful house to myself, so I can play records all night long, drink wine, be merry, and get my fill of the country, at least momentarily.
I weigh 145 lbs, which is a lot less than I had imagined, considering how my eating habits have deteriorated. Until recently, actually. Lately, I've been focusing on preparing and creating colorful, healthy meals, instead of caving to the fried mirage of fast food drive-thrus. I've been taking my time and buying vegetables, at least, and focusing as much of my attention on the actual creation, rather than the automatic consumption.
It makes me feel a bit better, and I think it's enforcing better habits, in the long run.
Overall, I'm still not happy, but when was I ever? Even when I was at my lowest, I was only really focusing my thoughts on the skin I could pinch between my thumb and forefinger. I only had one mantra that really stood out, "fat, fat, fat, fat, don't eat, don't eat, starve, starve, purge, purge..."
It's insane, this back and forth that is occurring.
Yet, I still have so little control. It's okay, though. I'm working on it. I'm actually trying. And doing.
That counts for something.
