Five French Fries

I freaked last night.  Over french fries.  I ate some french fries and I panicked...couldn't breathe, started crying, had to actively try not to puke, called my husband then my mom, freaked!  Do you know how many french fries I ate?

5.

That's right.  5.  FIVE.  I counted.  And they were baked, not fried.  Five french fries were enough to send me into an all out panic.  I'm seriously disturbed...

How do normal people deal with food?  The shit scares the crap out of me.  Mainly because I like to eat, a lot.  I grew up in an Italian family, the food's just good...maybe if we were English and ate fish and chips all the time I wouldn't have a problem.  But no, we like our carbs.

I don't know what it is but the more I like a food the scarier it is for me.  Chocolate, steak, and pasta (of any kind) all make my mouth water and my knees tremble.  ED has convinced me that if it tastes good its bad for me and will ultimately turn me into a whale.  So in order to not panic when it comes to eating I'd have to live off tofu, brussel sprouts, beets, and liver....

ED Gets a Wife

My first day in treatment for my eating disorder my therapist told me to give my eating disorder its own voice, to distinguish my thoughts from its thoughts.  Like most recovering from an eating disorder I call mine ED.  But since I've been in recovery ED has developed a counter personality, Mrs. Bitch.

While ED likes to harass me about my weight, calories, exercise, and my lack of perfection in almost every area of my life, Mrs. Bitch likes to harass me about my imperfections associated with recovery.  If I skip a meal or snack she takes note.  If I don't eat the minimum number of calories I'm supposed to in a day she points it out.

Seriously, WTF!

It was bad enough having one monster terrorize me.  Now I have two.  A journey into my brain if you please...

ED: You're eating again.
Me: It's a granola bar.
Mrs. Bitch: You didn't have enough protein with lunch, you should eat some peanut butter too.
I don't want peanut butter.
Thank God, it'd go straight to your thighs.
You need the protein.  You're not eating properly.
I'm eating.
Fat ass.
Eat a boiled egg instead of a granola bar.
I want the granola bar and we're out of eggs.
Eggs are fat.
Eggs are not fat.
Everything has fat.
No everything has calories, not fat.
Celery doesn't have calories.
Okay so live off celery.
You can't live off celery.  You need protein, carbohydrates, and good fats.
You need a bigger pair of pants.


If I wasn't certifiable before I sure am now...