I Remember You're the Reason I Have to Stay

I deserve to do the best I can on my midterms this week, so I need the clarity of mind and energy that only nutrition can provide. Bullshit. If I weren't a whiny, lazy bitch I could starve and still ace my midterms. I'm fully capable of doing that. I'm just making excuses.

I deserve to have a successful audition for the summer abroad programme, so I need food to keep me focused and energized. Bullshit. Food in my stomach is distracting during auditions. I get all self-conscious and feel physically sluggish and weighed down.

My parents deserve the peace of mind that comes from seeing me eat well, and I can only give them that if I continue the hard work I've been doing for the past week. Well, it's less "hard work" and more like "gluttony," but I can't argue with the first bit. Fine. Pop a Lean Cuisine in the microwave, douse it in pepper, and call it a night.

But still, cut back a little.

Last night I ate 100 calories less than I was "supposed" to on my RF plan. And then today I was supposed to increase again but I didn't. I ate the same as I did yesterday. So really 200 calories less than I was "supposed" to eat today.

I'm still at a safe level, though. Like not what you'd call a starvation diet at all. I don't want to increase anymore. I'm afraid of becoming bloated or gaining a ton of water weight or having a hard time losing it. Or "not looking sick." You know when people who are really underweight go into treatment, and after a few days to a couple weeks they start getting colour back in their face and looking a lot less drawn even though they're still very thin? Yeah. I hate that. That's what happened over Christmas break. I only gained a couple pounds (which I was promptly relieved of immediately upon returning to severe restriction), but I looked less gaunt. Fortunately the sallowness comes back quickly enough -- and then some. I had a half-lovely, half-terrifying moment a couple of weeks ago when I was using the bathroom before voice class: I exited the stall and turned left to face the mirror, when for a split second I glimpsed a truly corpse-like face staring back at me. My skin was bloodless, sunken, a horrific shade of ash white. Complemented by my blue-purple lips and vacant eyes, I honestly looked dead. Holy fuck, I thought, not certain whether I should be proud or panicked. Then I thought -- it's just the God-awful lighting in this decrepit old building and I'm tired -- and the moment vanished.

Anyway, I'd like not to lose that, I guess is what I'm getting at here. And I'm not doing badly, really I'm not. Doing badly would be completely giving into the VERY STRONG temptation to starve myself now and not stick it out these next couple weeks. So yeah. Could be better, could be worse. But right now I'm hungry and, as such, relieved.