I hate feeling fat.
I don't want to. I don't mean to. I think happy thoughts. I try to keep a positive attitude. I love my body. I want to do what's right for my body. I feed her. I nourish her. I tell her she's beautiful. But each time I begin to feel happy, content, unafraid-- that familiar little voice creeps in to remind me:
Throughout my recovery, I have learned to ignore this voice for the most part. But when it says that word, so cold and cruel and piercing, it's hard not to listen. More than that, it's hard not to believe.
F a t.
When I was getting ready to go out with my boyfriend tonight for dinner, everything I put on my body made me look and feel fat. It was so discouraging. My eating disorder kept reminding me how skinny I used to be. My rational self would argue that I wasn't skinny then, I was sick then. But my rational self surfaced a little too late.
I let my eating disorder make me feel bad about all of the hard work I've done to restore myself back to health. It was a reasonably warm day and I felt the need to wear a tank top, a long sleeved shirt, and a long sleeved cardigan over that. Somehow, in my head, it looked better. I tried to make myself look skinny but it didn't work. Instead, I tried to cover up to hide the fat. The guilt. The shame. The gluttony. All of those lies my eating disorder tries to pass for truth.
I am disappointed in myself for feeling this way, and I know my eating disorder is wrong. I didn't let it ruin dinner. I ate an appetizer and a salad. I felt full and properly nourished. I still won. But it's so frustrating when those negative thoughts pop into my head. I'm learning how to (mostly) ignore them. I'm learning how to react to them. Now I want to know how to stop them.
I will not let my eating disorder come back into my life.
There is no room for relapse.
I've come too far.
I've made too much progress.
I'm not that weak anymore.
I will not be controlled.
I will not be made to feel worthless.
I will fight and I will win.