Oh To Be Thin

[restrictnotregret]

I’m so tired of the self-hatred for always fuc**** up before the honeymoon phase begins. Tired of being me. Tired of being fat. Tired of seeking control and not having the willpower to take it by the reins.

[restrictnotregret]

I’ve been bĩñgẽĩñg, and I’m so ashamed of myself.

[restrictnotregret]

I’ll feel like I’m making progress, and then I look in the mirror. That or I go to the gym and see all the girls, and then there’s me: frumpy and fat.

[restrictnotregret]

My trash can sums up my diet perfectly.

[restrictnotregret]

I recently was diagnosed with gastroparesis, and part of that issue is intense, sharp pains (not to be mistaken with hunger pains). Not eating exacerbates it. Eating too much exacerbates it. My gastroenterologist wants me to eat small meals all day long. That’s not happening. I know the disorder is disordering when my goal weight is more important to me than managing stomach issues, but that’s why it’s an illogical illness, and I, stupidly, don’t give a flying fuck. I’ll manage. For Aņå, I’m not giving up. Feel free to call me a dumbass, but my weight comes first no matter what.

[restrictnotregret]

April Goal: 20 p0unds down. No excuses. No settling. No fuçkųps.

[restrictnotregret]

I lost my account. Over a year worth of journaling, finding moots, expressing myself, and finding support in a world that doesn’t understand me, all flushed down the drain. If you remember me, my last screen name was: oh2bskinnyagain and oh2bthinagain. I had an ape sitting in a long hallway as my photo. I don’t know why I came back if I could just lose it all in a split second again, but I need some sort of community.