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ED's

food words person love

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27.12. cetvrtak
-jabuka

26.12. srijeda
-2 cokoladna jaja
-zeleni caj
-pizza cut
-2 pive

10.09. ponedjeljak
-0.2L zelenog caja, 1L vode
-mali tanjur grenadira, zelena salata
-jabuka

09.09. nedjelja
-0.2L zelenog caja
-tanjur buća (favourite low cal food), 1 manji krumpir
-5 petit beurre keksa (200 kcal)
-pola tanjura kase od zobenih pahuljica, peceno jaje
-jabuka
-1.5L vode

08.09. subota
-2 jabuke
-2 snite kruha
-6 milka cokoladnih bombona
-1.5L vode

10.02. petak
-kasica od voca (122 kcal)

09.02. cetvrtak
-b-i-n-g-e -.-

08.02. srijeda
-kasica od breskve (109 kcal)
-tanjur variva od kelja s krumpirom, snita sira, sirova mrkva
-jogurt i cornflakes
-kineska juha iz vrecice (160 kcal), sirova mrkva

*5o trbusnjaka, 1oo leg-lifts, 1oo vjezbi za ruke, 5o cucnjeva

07.02. utorak
-jogurt i cornflakes
-2,5 snite kruha s margarinom, pola svjeze paprike
- 0,4L limunade (svjeze iscijedena i nezasecerena, naravno)

06.02. ponedjeljak
-jabuka
-1 tikvica na lešo, ribani kupus, omlet od 2 bjeljanka i 1 zumanjka, pola snite crnog kruha
-binge -.- (ne strasan, al vise od planiranog)

05.02. nedjelja
-3/4 tanjura variva od poriluka, 1/2 pecenog filea pilecih prsa
-jabuka
-2x jogurt i cornflakes
-1L vode
-3/4 tanjura variva od poriluka

*5o trbusnjaka, 5o leg-lifts. 5o vjezbi za ruke

the following text is NOT written by me, but I find myself in it.

My weight fluctuates between slightly overweight, slightly underweight and somewhere in between. Which proves that my methods of losing weight aren’t that efficient, but this is not about logic. This is not about doing the right things like eating less or exercising more. This is not about being sensible or healthy or a shining example of mental health. This is not Jamie Oliver and his organic pig testicles.

This is not about looking good on the beach or wanting to be a supermodel. This is not about wanting the cute guy in the coffee shop to beg for your telephone number. This is not about sliding a pair of skinny jeans over your hipbones and laughing all the way to the check out till.

This is not about wanting attention until complete strangers force feed you Black Forest Gateau and siphon double cream into your skinny latte. It is not about deliberately pissing off the nurses by hiding your peas under your fork and stashing butter in the bed pans. It is not about starving for all the children in Africa. It is not about reading the magazines and pining for the Body Mass Index of Paris Hilton’s pet Chihuahua. This is not a conspiracy created by the Patriarchal system to oppress women.

This is about having the self-esteem of a gnat’s arse. This is the polite way of committing suicide. This is about having no life because it’s impossible to order a bowl of dry cereal in a restaurant and ask them to hold the raisins. This is about weighing pasta, cereal, raisins and anything that passes your lips, including toothpaste. This is about secrets and lies and shame. This is about not wanting to admit that you need to eat. That you deserve to live.

This is about being scared. This is about being terrified. Of everything.

This is about control. This is about sex. This is about putting relationships on hold until your thighs don’t meet in the middle and by then you have no libido anyway. This is about hiding under layers of clothing that are mostly black. This is about “Please don’t look at me and cover all the mirrors with black crepe.” This is about avoiding the camera, even at your sister’s wedding. This is about intense self hatred.

This is about needing so much that you can’t stand it. This is about having emotions that bubble up and spill out all over the carpet and stink up the whole house. This is about having too many choices and too much pressure and isn’t it easier just to keep it simple and obsess about the amount of calories in a small cantaloupe? Instead of making big scary choices that might crush you to a pulp?

This is about wanting to be safe. This is about wanting to curl up in a nutshell like Thumbelina and ignore the big bad world that’s too noisy and dangerous and can’t be trusted. This is about not trusting anyone and relying on food (or lack of) to give you an all enveloping comfort blanket when the medication bloats you up like a corpse in a river.

This is about really crappy coping methods. This is about making a choice that will quite possibly kill you. This is about failed relationships, waiting lists, devastated families, waiting lists, becoming vegetarian, becoming vegan, becoming lactose intolerant, developing a wheat allergy and more waiting lists. This is about infertility, rotten teeth, and hollow bones. This is about cardiac arrest in a shopping centre. This is about being sick. This is about not being sick enough. This is about finally being sick enough for a bed in a unit until you drop down dead and you get a mention in the local paper for being such a model student.

This is not about food.