I realized something after my weekend binge fest: I no longer know how to tell if I'm full. On binges, I eat and eat and eat, and never stop unless the food runs out or I get bored. I don't stop when I'm full. Even on the rare occasions I spend a day not technically binging, just eating like a normal person - I still don't know if I'm full or not after a normal-sized dinner.
The purpose of a binge, I presume, is for the body to try and reclaim everything it has lost. In my head, it's a desperate, suicidal attempt to not feel so horrendously hungry. And yet it never works. I could eat my weight in Wendy's; I'll still be hungry afterwards. Because I don't know how not to be hungry. I have condemned myself to a Tantalus-esque punishment.
This sucks.
It has, however, given me a better outlook. If I'm going to be feeling hungry all the time anyway, no matter what I do, then what's the point of binging at all? I'll just starve and be hungry rather than stuff my face and be hungry.
At least, I'm going to try. Again.
*-Still at 108. I suppose that's better than going back up over 110.-*
I just discovered your blog dear! and why oh why do you not have more followers? you write pure gold! seriously honey, this is great shit!! thanks for being you and thanks soo much for putting it so plainly! I want this to be my new mantra. seriously. I'm SO there. I have no idea how you put it so perfectly but yeah.. you definitely did.
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Thank you, luv! You just made my day!!! :D
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