I managed to get to the gym five days this week. That’s almost three solid hours of just cardio. Yet, I feel like such a fat fuck.
The longer I go without drinking, the more my old, bad habits start creeping up on me. I’m beginning to wonder if I can’t even function without having *some* sort of issue. Before I said “Fuck all!” and became a drunk, I struggled for years with bulimia. Meticulously logging every calorie that went into my mouth, and if I went too far, horked it all right back up into the toilet. (Yummy.) After realizing if I drank a bottle of wine over the course of an evening I really didn’t CARE how much I ate, and that was kind of nice. But the next morning I’d remember and oh, the shame and so in order to repress that shame, I’d drink again. Aaand we all know where that goes.
Anyway. I’m counting calories again, and I’ve purged twice in the past two weeks. That is a road I really, really don’t need to go down again.
But man, I feel like I *need* to obsess over something, anything. Why can’t it be something that isn’t self-destructive?
Ugh. So, yes. Blorp.