I can't tell if it's getting easier or harder. Sometimes one, sometimes the other. Do I miss the midnight binges? I mean, really miss them? Do I miss how I felt the next morning, guilty and angry with myself? We all idealize. I am no different. But what point is there in sticking on the rose-colored glasses around harmful behavior? I'm down nearly 22 pounds. My clothes are looser. My rings are looser. I have more energy and less pain. Feeling distracted by someone who just sat down next to me. Noisy and strong perfume. Chewing gum loudly. Love thy neighbor? Not so much.
This morning I had cottage cheese pureed with a little kiwi, kefir and water. It's rather safe for me to have limited choices. What happens when I go back to the big wide world of food? I have to remember that nothing will ever be the same, nor do I want it to be. I have made a change. I want to keep that change, use it. I'm on a different path now. That path is not a panacea, but it is a hell of a lot better than where I was going before. Yet I have doubts, worry, cynicism.
Love equals food, right? What culture doesn't believe that? Love and food, comfort, happiness. It's not just fuel. It's the fire.