Today I am happy for all the wrong reasons. I woke up incredibly depressed and wishing I hadn't woken up at all. While I was getting dressed I noticed that my waist seemed smaller. I was really excited, but also prepared for a letdown when I measured my waist. 23.5 inches. The last time I measured (which was ages ago) it was around 27 inches. I get excited about being skinny the way a little kid gets excited for Christmas, so I was elated all morning.
I had therapy this morning, which brought me down a bit. I was very self-critical in my ballet class today, which didn't make me feel much better. After ballet (jumping around for an hour and a half) I still felt restless. I was riding my bike from the college to my house, so I decided to just keep biking. And keep biking, and keep biking, and keep biking... I've ridden my bike 18-ish miles today. I'm proud of myself. I was on a bike trail that goes around a lake. After the first lap, I wanted to quit and go home. I even started to follow the path home, but I turned around and kept going. I made myself keep going until I had completed 5 laps around the lake.
When I got home I did sixty crunches, laying on the floor under the magazine pictures of teeny tiny models I hung on my bedroom wall along with a couple motivating Nike ads. I had some apple juice, because I hadn't eaten since breakfast and figured I could use a small blood-sugar boost. I immediately regretted it. 120 calories of apple juice when I could have just had water. What a waste! After that I guzzled water. I weighed myself. I was 121.5 lbs. Then I realized that I'd had quite a bit of water and approximately 8 oz of apple juice. I filled my bottle to how much I'd had to drink and weighed it. It was half a pound, and I reckoned the apple juice was probably a quarter of a pound. Subtracting this three-quarters of a pound puts me at 119.25 pounds. Woot!!!!! I'm so excited! I've lost 4.25 pounds since early September. Crazy!
I know this is really bad for me. I know that I'm approaching an unhealthy weight. I should weigh close to 130 pounds, according to BMI charts, but screw that. I'm having fun. Well, sort of... seeing the numbers go down is fun, but the actual process is hell. If I don't eat I walk through the day in a paranoid haze. If I do eat I hate myself for it, no matter how much or how little I ate. I'm trying to find some semblence of moderation.
My grandma is making 4-cheese pizza for dinner. I'm nervous. I feel like if I eat it it will completely wipe out all the hard work I did on my bike ride. I don't know how many calories I burned on the ride, nor have I looked at how many calories are in the pizza yet. I'm going to, though. I can probably only have one or two slices. I probably have to have at least two pieces or my grandma will worry, and I don't want her to be suspicious. Whenever we had pizza in the summer, I would eat nearly half of it. Disgusting. I need more self-control.
I shouldn't be losing weight. This is really bad. But I love losing weight! I'm so torn. I know if I work hard to recover I can be happy, but at the same time if I work hard at weightloss, I can be thin. Both are appealling, but being thinner usually wins. I don't know what to do!!!!
Help! :(
