I'm feeling a bit better today, because I'm 155.5. And I was tired before I saw the numbers on the scale, and thinking, God, I don't want to go to the gym today, or even stick to not eating. But the amazing/incredibly cruel thing about Ana is that once you begin to lose weight, you're deathly scared to stop. All I can think about is whether or not I'll be as thin tomorrow. Whether or not I'll have lost another pound. Or even two.
Yesterday I went to the gym, and worked out hard (then I went dancing, so hard that I burned off the three glasses of white wine I had to have because it's Saturday and everyone was drinking). Bloody hard. I sweated and ran and jiggled and boxed and sat up till I couldn't stand up. I see now that to keep my metabolism up, I'll have to keep exercising as well as not eating. My weight loss will be much faster that way. Which is why I'm going to drag my lard-arse to the gym in a few hours and go even harder than yesterday.
At the gym, with harsh unforgiving mirrors on every side, I keep watching my horrible fleshy, sausagey body as it shakes (like a jelly) with every kilometre, and I simply can't wait for the day when I can put on a wifebeater, show off toned, slender arms, and a flat, honed stomach. I just can't wait to be thin.
No comments:
Post a Comment