You better take care of me Lord; if you don't, you're gonna have me on your hands.

Random(ish) ED/recovery update....?

I've been doing pretty well with the whole eating disorder recovery thing. I finally reached a point where I eat what I want when I want, don't over-exercise (or exercise at all, to be honest.......), and occasionally spend a Saturday eating a feckton of junk food with my friend C and don't feel bad about it afterwards. 

One day we're going to have a reality show, and it will be glorious. 

I haven't weighed myself since November, 2011. I haven't taken laxatives or ephedrine or any other starve/purge aids since about the same time. I don't feel a crushing sense of horror and doom every time I look in the mirror. 

And the biggest victory BY FAR: I do not spend every single waking moment thinking about calories and how many I've had and how many I'm allowed to have and how many I might have later and how I'm fat fat fat; and I have to say it really feels amazing to have my brain back.

[Yes, there is a "but" coming.]

I knew moving out of Mumsy's house would be a major adjustment, particularly in the area of budgeting my expenses. And I suck at that. But I've gone over the numbers repeatedly (in Excel, because I totally suck at math and Excel does the math for me) and based on what I make at my job, I can afford to pay all my monthly expenses (rent, electricity, car insurance, loan, petrol, cat food, getting my hair bleached, Netflix), with roughly $200.00 a week leftover for extra things. 

But because of all the bloody issues with the license/insurance/etc (among a couple other things, like my bank and Experian stealing my money) on top of all the expenses involved in the actual move, a massive dent has been put into my bank account. I cannot afford ANYTHING but the basics.

The main essentials, on a day-to-day basis, are cat food, petrol, and my food. Unfortunately, over the last month or so, they have been prioritized in that order.

I need petrol to get to work (it's an hour each way, so even with a car that is awesome on petrol, that's still quite a bit of money every week). The cats need to eat, and I love them like they're my babies. I absolutely will not underfeed them. 

And so the money left over for me to buy food for myself is not very much money at all. 

This both frightened me and didn't frighten me, at first. I can deal with this, I thought. Because of the eating disorder, I know I can keep going (physically) on much much less food than a normal person. I can eat just enough to stay conscious, keep the cats fed, and keep my car fueled until I can get back on my feet, money-wise. Also I'm not exercising anymore (I cancelled the gym membership entirely), so it's not like I'm overexerting myself. This will be totally fine.

It started out fine. I wan't thinking about weight loss--that never even crossed my mind. I mean yeah, I figured I'd probably lose some weight, but I didn't really care one way or the other. 

Until about a week and a half ago, when I was watching TV in bed (and probably frightening my neighbours because Tim Hawkins is seriously frigging HYSTERICAL), and I happened to notice how much my hipbones stick out when I'm laying down. 

I couldn't resist the curiosity--I got up and did something I have not done in over a year. 

I ran my hand down my back/side to check my ribs. 

But then I stopped and said NO IT'S EVIL, DON'T TOUCH IT and tried to put it out of my head.

Between then and now, two friends and Lil Sis made comments that I have lost weight. And a little dust-mote-sized demon crawled into my brain and laughed gleefully at this information. 

Cutting down on my groceries suddenly got easier. 

And then Monday I was texting back and forth with Stepmom and she said how great I looked in my David Bowie inspired outfit for 70's day at church on Sunday

me and the Bros, are we a f**king gorgeous family or what

I was complaining how I hate wearing pants (seriously I think every single person in church that day was like HOLY CRAP, ARE THOSE PANTS!?!??) because I still have some issues as far as hiding things like my thunder thighs

and then Stepmom goes, "oh don't worry you look great curvy, and you'll get a chance to slim down once you start going to the gym again."

oh

In fairness, Stepmom is the skinniest person I know and I'm pretty sure she's one of those women who thinks that barely eating anything ever and working out 10+ times a week is totally healthy, so her perception of "curvy" may be slightly off.

This has been a giant mess of brain feckery: am I losing a lot of weight? Then how freaking fat was I before I moved?? How fat am I now?!?!?

As I said in the beginning, I was doing pretty well with recovery, but not perfect. My biggest remaining issue is probably the mirror. 

I have NO IDEA what I look like. I look in the mirror, and most of the time I still see a whale, so I mostly avoid full-length mirrors.

.....and literally at the end of the day today, one of our clients walked in and said, "JESUS CHRIST you got so skinny!!!" with a semi-concerned look on her face.

SERIOUSLY HOW EFFING FAT WAS I BEFORE THIS?!?!

::deepbreaths::

I don't know what to do. I am definitely not anywhere near as crazy/disordered as before, and I am thankfully NOT slipping back into that awful depressive state that took over my life for the last year, but I DO know that this could be a problem. I don't want two years of working towards recovery to be for nothing. I CANNOT GO BACK DOWN THAT ROAD.

Advice? Thoughts? I fired my shrink because I'm poor, so I'll accept any thoughts or suggestions y'all got. 

America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable.

Continuing my quest to transfer my life from New Jersey to New York....

So Progressive wouldn't give me car insurance when I tried to get it last week because I could not furnish enough proof that I live in New York. If you don't have a NY drivers license, then they need either a W2, proof of homeowner's or renter's insurance, at least two utility bills, or a paystub. 

I could furnish none of these things--my W2 doesn't have the new address; I only pay for electricity, so I only get one utility bill; and I write my own paychecks at work, so they're not like official paychecks that show all the tax deductions, and therefore Progressive said that's not good enough.

I shall use the World's Most Accurate Rage Scale to describe my feelings from this point on:

Today I purchased renter's insurance. I called Progressive and sent them the declaration page, and said okay can y'all please give me insurance now because my current policy kind of ends in 3 days.

A summary of my conversation with Progressive this morning:

Mich: So you have the renter's insurance policy now with my New York address, can I get the car insurance now?

Progressive Salesman: Hmmmm... yeah I'm looking at it now and it looks like your renter's insurance isn't enough proof of address. We're going to need a W2, a paystub, or maybe you could send us two utility bills?

Mich: ...but your list of stuff said renter's insurance was good enough proof of address.

Progressive Salesman: Yes, well it looks like we'll still need a W2, a paystub, two utility bills, or a copy of your New York driver's license.

Mich: I don't have any of those. And don't even get me f*cking started on the driver's license.

Progressive Salesman: ...you don't have any utility bills? Or a W2?

Mich: I only pay for one utility and therefore only have ONE bill. And since, as I have already told you and your associates, I JUST MOVED, my W2 has my old address on it.

Progressive Salesman: Okay then... Well I'll tell you what we can do. We'll sign you up for auto insurance using your New Jersey address, and then you can transfer it to New York as soon as you have the proof of address.

Mich: Ummmm.... okay, that works I guess. Sign me up for New Jersey insurance. 'Cause I kind of need car insurance like now.

Progressive Salesman: ...Oh I'm sorry, I just spoke to my supervisor and it looks like we can't sign you up for New Jersey insurance because you live in New York.

Mich: ....................what.

Progressive Salesman: Sorry ma'am*, but we can't give you New Jersey auto insurance because you live in New York. 

Mich: ...So you can't give me New York car insurance because I can't prove that I live in New York, and you can't give me New Jersey car insurance because I live in New York. 

Progressive Salesman: I'm sorry, ma'am.

Mich: You do realize how ridiculous that is. 

Progressive Salesman: Sorry ma'am. 

Mich: *facedesk*

Progressive Salesman: What I would do, ma'am, is go to another company like Allstate or Farmers and sign up for an auto insurance policy with them under your New Jersey address. And then switch to New York once you have proof of your new address.

Mich: So what you're telling me is that in order to obtain car insurance, I should commit insurance fraud. 

Progressive Salesman: I'm sorry ma'am. 

Mich: . . .

Progressive Salesman: Is there anything else I can help you with today?

aaaaaaaaaaaaaand so now I have just lied to my old insurance salesman and told him I moved back to New Jersey. 

To top it all off, the stress has been giving me near-constant headaches, which has forced me to actually wear my glasses. >:(

look how smart I am

UUGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH






*Can I just say that I really really really really really really really really really frigging hate being called "ma'am."