OOOOoooooooooooooooooo a sailor's life is the life for me....

Cinnamon's pony arrived yesterday. (Parasol had to make a stop in New Jersey before continuing on her merry way to South Africa.) 


Mich's ponies love to make new friends! Although I must admit Mich-Parasol was a at first a bit suspicious of Cinnamon-Parasol.

But she seems to have calmed down and accepted her as a sister.

And they're all friends now. Here's both sets of Rainbow Ponies all out to wish their jet-setting cousin a pleasant trip!

Growing up is for sissies. 


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


I know this issue has come up numerous times before, and we've all probably talked about it and thought about ad nauseam, but the fact is that it remains an issue and will continue to remain an issue until we can achieve some kind of healthy state of recovery; so...


Sometimes I really wish people would shut the eff up about my weight. I think about my weight pretty much every second of every day. I really don't want to talk about it as well, and I especially do not wish to talk about it with other people who do not see my weight the way I see it. What makes this particular conversation topic extra-agitating is that people tend to bring it up on occasions when I feel especially BAD about my weight. Like on days when I've been bingeing, or at least eating too much crap for my own level of comfort. 


This past weekend, for example. I didn't really binge (except on Friday night), but I ate more than I normally would (i.e., daily calorie consumption was well outside the Safe Zone). And of course I felt like a fat bloated hippopotamus. Extra bloated, because IT'S TOO BLOODY HOT OUT and I tend to swell up in extreme heat.

As if I didn't feel crappy enough eating barbecue food and feeling bloated and cranky in the 90 degree weather, Mum has decided (again) that I am "too thin." And when Mum comes to a decision, she NAGS. She especially likes to nag when she has witnesses (like Little or Big Sis, friends, family, acquaintances... anyone who is within earshot really), so she can talk about you and the thing about which she is nagging and discuss it with the other person(s) in the room like you're not even there. 


>:(


And all I can do is sit there thinking, Is she on drugs? Are they all on drugs?? Are they kidding??? I'm a WHALE. 

Occasionally, there's that small voice in the back of your head that knows you're thinner than what medical professionals call "healthy." But knowing that fact does not alter the image you see in the mirror. 


Why? 


I see the number on the scale, and sometimes my self-molestation reveals ribs and hipbones sticking out a bit. So why is the body in the mirror SO FREAKING FAT!?


'Tis especially fat this week. Although I have woken up both yesterday and today with the intention of doing a <200-cal liquids-only day, I have failed miserably. Instead, I have been eating like a normal person and I feel extremely anxious about it. I suppose it's a good thing, to be getting the proper amount of food, and trying to eat when I'm hungry and stopping when I am no longer hungry (Possible Recovery Attempt #586949473945?). Dailyburn.com lets me know how I'm doing on the carb, fat, and protein consumption as well as the calories, because at this point I have NO EFFING IDEA when I'm Actually Full, or when I'm Actually Hungry. 


I feel hungry all the time. A horrible, growling, gnawing, hollow hunger that camps out deep in my gut. When I stuff my face, the hollow space is quieted and somewhat satisfied. But as soon as I have finished chewing and swallowing, the hunger returns. Even if I'm so physically full I can't do anything but lay on the floor like a beached sperm whale--I'm still hungry. I still want to eat more, because something deep within me is still empty. 


This is the key to fixing my head, I think. I need to find that empty space and fill it with something that is not food. Food will not fill it (obviously, or I'd feel satisfied after inhaling whole boxes of Special K with milk and sugar). But something else must fit in that hollow space, because it wasn't always so bare and empty. 


The idea of "recovery" is terrifying. I've made a few attempts before, all of which have fizzled out and ended up with me right back to starving. But as the saying goes, if at first you don't succeed, destroy all the evidence.


Or perhaps try again?


Ugh. 


In about ten minutes, I'm going to go get a sandwich. Because it's lunchtime and I'm hungry. My heart is beating so fast over this, it feels like I just ran several miles on an 8% incline on the elliptical. But I can do this. Without freaking out. 


....totally. 


-_____-