Well, I've been knocking back the chow for over two weeks in unrelenting fashion. Granted, it's been mostly fat free/extremely low fat, fairly low carb, and cumulatively less than 2000 Kcals per day; but the truth is it's highly unacceptable. I felt I had ballooned to nearly my former weight, but stepping on the scales this morning revealed only a 4 kilo weight gain.
I still am wearing the clothing I just only slimmed back into, and the only price I really paid was a broken complexion, filled-out (I tend to call this "milk-fed") look in the face and joints, and a very very grim look at myself in terms of control.
Lots of salt, whole blocks of fat free cheeses, and popcorn, as well as mashed potatoes with soya cheeses were my vices. Each day I made a vow that it would be the LAST. So familiar to my former eating disorder. "Today is the last day of this binge business. Tomorrow I will fast perfectly once more."
It's all bollocks, excuse the language please.
I know if I mean to meet my goals I MUST stay on track or be dammed.
This isn't lucky that I only gained 4 kilos back from the 20 I had dropped. I could have been 10 kilos lighter had I not gotten off track. And it is not like I enjoyed eating all that food. I was knackered and sore and my mouth hurt. My soul hurt the worst.
Remember this, oh feeble heart. For the sins of your past shall surely catch up once more lest you drop the proverbial ball...down your gullet!
Much love and renewed determination,
L
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