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4 Irritable Days
I am not going to sugar coat it. I am dangerously obese for my height. I weigh more today than I did when I was 9 months pregnant with my son. I use food as a way to ease my boredom and to comfort my emotions. I try and say that I don’t care and that I am happy with the way I look but, deep down I am hurting. Yes I have always worn shorts and t-shirts. Before moving back to Australia I never felt…
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I needed to make a text post but then...
I opened up facebook, typed up my epiphany, and it wasn't until I tried to check I was posting to the right blog that I realised my terrible mistake. I have just smoked the heaviest indica of my life. I'm also on prescribed amphetamines and drinking energy drinks... so many kinds of fucked up going on and I like it.
Two kilos
Dammit.
Here I am on the cover of LA Confidential magazine.
I've been dieting for a month. A whole month! Why don't I look like Mila Kunis yet? In case you've stroked out and don't know, I have been battling with food addiction for the past too many years. Food is my friend, my comfort, my love. I would wake up thinking about how I have to stop eating so much only to go to the kitchen and gorge on whatever I could find, then finish off whatever was left on the kids' plates. I never got to the point of diving through rubbish bins looking for the last few fries from a McDonald's Happy Meal, but my thoughts were always consumed by food. Pardon the pun. I've been taking the appetite suppressant Duramine for a month now. The first week was hell. Going cold turkey on Pepsi and all things sugary made me want to kill. I had headaches and apparently I was not a happy chappy to live with. Ok, I was a little difficult to be around. Alright, I was a psychopathic fucktard asshat. And I only lost two kilograms. I'd been banging my head against a wall for nothing (150 calories per hour. True.) What a waste of eight hours that was. I bet Mila Kunis never had to bang her head as much as I do to shift calories.
And I didn't even use Photoshop!
I know, I know, I should be really happy with two kilos. And really I am. Two kilos is a good start. It's just that a lot of people I know who have been on this wonder drug lost lots and lost it relatively quickly. Some didn't eat at all. I can't do that. I still need to eat. I need to eat because I will need to go off this medication in a few months. I need to eat to reprogram my eating behaviours and habits. I need to eat because I want my kids to see me eating. I need to look at food differently, more of a source of energy than a companion. Oh, best friend and confidant, how I miss thee. I miss our secret rendezvous in the middle of the night. I miss how you'd quietly beckon me with a breathy "eat meeeeee...." I'm so sorry Food, but our relationship was toxic. You made me believe I needed your emotional connection when all it was was physical. Two kilograms (or in real terms, Mila Kunis' left arm) is the baby step towards the new me. Looking like Mila Kunis is my carrot dangling out in front. And if that doesn't work, the price tag of the Duramine will certainly do the job. *No Mila Kunises were harmed in the making of this blog. Come bang your head on my Facebook wall & lose 150 calories per hour with me!
