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I’m torn.

I’m torn between wanting to be 100% rid of this stupid obsession with food, and between wanting or needing to cling on to the familiarity of it all.  Although the familiarity isn’t good, it’s not good at all.

Routine is the problem.  I’m in too much of a routine, a consequence of the time as an in patient all those years ago: Must have breakfast.  Must have snack.  Must have lunch.  Must have snack.  Must have dinner.  Must have snack.  Like bloody clockwork.  Being so conscious of food, and the need to eat regularly is really doing my head in.  I want to have freedom to maybe have a huuuuuge breakfast, then pick up a packet of crisps, munch on a muffin, grab a chocolate bar on the way home, and snack for dinner etc etc etc.  But I can’t.  I just can’t be spontaneous as much as I want to, it’s really really getting on my nerves. It is better than not eating very much at all though, despite the preoccupation of having to eat regularly, I’d rather that than be avoiding eating completely.  I just need to branch out away from so called ‘safe’ food, have a different chocolate bar instead of the ones I know don’t have as many calories, get a different sandwich from the cafe rather than the one with the least fat.

Shopping trips have to be secretively arranged around meal times, ‘can I squeeze in a trip to the shops between breakfast and be back for lunch?’, if not, I don’t go.  I usually make excuses not to go places, meet friends, do anything, in case I am not back home around a certain time to eat.  Don’t get me wrong, I eat out a lot, too much some might say(!), but it’s always slyly planned and factored in.  I’m manipulative with it, and 99% of the time things are done on my terms, we go where I suggest, when I suggest, it’s selfish.  Reading restaurant menus before hand so I can see if there’s something I’d eat, avoiding places where the isn’t anything I’d consider eating – regardless if that’s where everyone else wanted to go.

I frustrate myself.  I frustrate everyone else as well I’d have thought.  Although to be honest, I do hide it well.  I’ll happily eat a chocolate muffin, or a slice of cake, I’m an absolute pudding fiend and it’s the first thing I look for on a menu (not in a ‘safe food’ way, in a yum yum yum way) people see me eating these and assume I’m fine.  I don’t throw it up, I never have done and never will do, I just feel guilty about being a greedy pig and that’s about it.  But if I do ‘pig out’, that’s when I can’t stop.  I’ll keep picking at things, another chocolate here, a few more biscuits there, it’s as if my body is saying ahh well, you had a slice of cake so you’ve ruined it now – might as well go all out.  Moderation is not in my dictionary.

I am recovered from the anorexia to some extent (as in, not being under the care of Doctors), but have developed a whole new set of habits and routines which aren’t much better.  On the plus side, I went to the gym induction and it wasn’t as bad as I thought.  I doubt I’ll ever enjoy it, I’m far too lazy and it really doesn’t appeal to me, but I’ll be damned if that money is wasted so I’ll bloody go!  Only managed 10 minutes walking on the treadmill and 5 minutes on the cross trainer before my chest felt like it was going to burst so think I’ll be taking it nice and slow, the oldies put me to shame they were really going for it!  And there were only a handful of posers with copious amounts of fake tan and hair spray which was a bonus.

Yet again, my mind has run away with itself.  I never expected to write so much on a blog, but it’s strangely cathartic in that I can get my thoughts out without actually having to talk to anyone!  I’ll be surprised if anyone has read this far, and if so, I apologise for the pointless blurb I seem to be spouting.  And for today’s culinary treat, sticky toffee pudding:

I wish I could bake something like that, drool.