My relationship with food and my body is absolutely, totally fucked.
The end.
Seriously.
I have eaten incredibly badly this last week - and not bad as in a lot or junk food or anything like that, just really bad - like the row of brownies I ate today. Four squares.
And then the guilt I lay on about eating them.
So I don't even enjoy them in the eating.
And then I start thinking about making myself vomit them up.
And have a whole internal dialogue about how that is not a choice.
That is officially a complete cluster-fuck.
I started out today with some low-fat Greek yoghurt and stewed rhubarb and put on daggy gear to go walking in after dropping the boys at school.
But then had to feed Grover first, then deal with Jasper's mega tantrum of the day, and hang out some washing.
By then it was close to nap time and I didn't want Jasper just napping in the stroller so told myself to do a gym workout video when they were asleep.
Instead I fell asleep for half an hour when I put him down and then got up and ate two brownies. Then about 20 Jatz crackers as the packet was open and on the bench and well, they were 'there'.
So I didn't eat lunch because I figured that Jatz crackers and two brownies were damage enough.
And then somewhere between them waking up, hanging out washing and having to pick boys up from school I ate another two brownies.
My mental state at the moment is being so determined by all this.
I see my reflection and wince.
But still I make a choice to eat badly. To binge. Then beat myself up about it.
I continually do a Dr Phil on myself but to no avail.
I mean, investing in this behaviour is rewarding me how?
