Good news is, so far my labs seem to be either improving or not getting worse. In less than a week I should be pretty much out of the woods for RFS (refeeding syndrome, but since I'm sick of the phrase "refeeding" -- it sounds really vile for some reason -- I'll just abbreviate it). Bad news is, my period's gone. I have given it ample time to show up and it's definitely missed the boat. No, I am not pregnant. But I would like to be at some point. Although I don't miss the horrible, terrible cramps, another part of me feels sort of... I don't know... like less of a woman, somehow. I was never one of those anorexics who was afraid to grow up. I was afraid to develop physically, certainly, but that was only because I didn't like the thought of different parts of my body getting fatter. It had nothing to do with sex or independence or psychological maturity.
I'm scared for what will happen the day I can no longer put my hands around where my legs and thighs meet and close them. Or when my thighs start to touch. Or my sleeves fit tighter around my arms and my pants and skirts don't slide off my hips. You know, basically when my clothes start to fit again. But I guess I shouldn't worry about that now, and take things one day at a time like I've been doing... and so far I have been doing really well eating-wise. Here's hoping that continues, because I never want to be so miserable ever again.
Eating disorders suck. And they are NOT WORTH IT.
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