Sweet Cherry Pie

I woke up this morning with so many thoughts racing through my head about what I did last night.

I had gone out.

I had binged and purged earlier that day even though I did everything I could to not.

I almost binged before going out.

Then I was extremely late because I couldn't find an outfit that looked right.

I get there and ran into at least three different graduating classes from high school.

I almost fought this duuuude...duchebag…who flicked his drink in my face when I told him to leave my girls and me alone.

I saw and talked to girls I used to envy and be afraid of in high school—ones I put on a pedestal, comparing myself to them constantly, knowing I'd never measure up.

I stayed out til the lights came on.

My DD got pulled over.

We stopped at 7-11 for goodies…I made an impulse decision.

I got home and ate.

Now, usually all of these things would be bad. Usually I would have had too much to drink and have racing thoughts of regret attached to each of the above statements. But last night I was sober and I didn't have my drunk goggles on, I saw my night through different glasses. It looked like this…

I went out last night. – Thank god because Ed had me wanting to give up, go home and isolate.

I had binged and purged earlier that day even though I did everything I could to try to not. – I was able to stop it before it got really bad.

I even almost binged before going out. – BUT I DIDN'T.

Then I couldn't find an outfit that looked right. – But I ended up finding one that showed off my new amazing, exquisite breasts (Anchor Man…) and even got compliments on them (THAT NEVER HAPPENS)

I get there and ran into at least three different graduating classes from high school. – Which was really fun, every time I turned around there was a new person I WANTED and ENJOYED talking to. I didn't get scared and quiet.

I almost fought this duuuude…douchebag…who flicked his drink in my face when I told him to leave my girls and me alone. – I was in a very sober state of mind and this guy who was trying to entice us with his drink sloshing and "baking" during Cherry Pie was not.

I saw and talked to girls I used to envy and be afraid of in high school—ones I put on a pedestal, comparing myself to them constantly, knowing I'd never measure up. – But they complimented me, said it was nice to see me, my nerves weren't there and the conversation was genuine, it was easy.

I stayed out til the lights came on. – which usually means I am at the bar trying to get in that one last drink but I was no where near the bar.

My DD got pulled over. – she was sober J

We stopped at 7-11 for goodies…I made an impulse decision. – I got a Slurpee and it felt great to get what I, me, Kris wanted not Ed (usually would have been cookies and candy bars).

I got home and ate. –I had a sammich because I was hungry and stopped there. Usually I would eat anything and everything until I felt sick and throw up in order to go to sleep.

I'm on a high right now, and it's the high I've been failing to get from food, exercise, booze, purging, restricting. It's this genuine, organic happiness … this light.

I have a clear head, I remember everything last night, I didn't check out, I don't regret anything. Oh AND I found $20 on the floor. BOOM.

I've had a VERY hard time lately. I can't seem to not listen to Ed when he tells me "just this one last time we'll eat this…" "just have the cookie … and add this peanut butter to it and maybe syrup would taste good" "Well you've already started might as well go for two more bowls of cereal…." "You have a disease … just give in to me…" 

I've been trying to find that combination of food and flavors that makes me feel happy, high, relaxed … but after many binges and attempts I've come up with nothing but pain.

But I've found it here.

And I've found it because I was honest about my struggles, and because I acted rather than reacted.

I went to an AA meeting at 7:30 before going out. And after I prefunked with a latte and a girl who has 18 months sober. We talked about our addict state of mind. I felt less alone, less like a freak, less ashamed. It was freeing, it's what I've needed and I want more.

I've found the gray area of my black and white mind.

And it's from doing what I'm told. 

It's from writing gratitude lists, staying in a positive state of mind, from trying, from giving a shit about myself, from going to treatment everyday and from calling up ChaCha and telling him I need help, from going to AA meetings and confessing that I have an alcoholic state of mind. It's from doing the work that I need to do and following direction.

I had to do a lot of reaching out, going out of my comfort zone and talking back to my disease last night. It was not easy but my God was it worth it.

THANK YOU to all of you who read. Every time I go out I'm approached by a new person who reads this mess of madness and confession. 

It's an embarrassing yet flattering feeling. 

Your kindness, encouragement and words lift me up and I'm truly grateful for you. 

God bless!

Fuck You Itty Bitty Bikini

I'm so sick of fighting with myself.

I'm sick of the up and down and the "you're ok" "no you're not" "you're fat" "you do need to eat" "no you don't"...

My legs are sore from working out.

My feet hurt from standing and walking and running so much—but I can't bare to sit down because it makes me feel fat. I've convinced myself that I must stand to burn more calories.

I've been doing 45 minutes or more of cardio everyday for two weeks almost, but yesterday I took the entire day off because I was weak. I lost sight of my goal, which is to lose 5 pounds immediately.

I've given into my urges to eat bites of a cookie. To have an extra protein bar to try to not be so hungry later, but that never works, I'm always hungry.

As I sat on the bus today I felt my fat stick over the side of my shorts. I felt the elastic squeeze me tighter—that sensation wasn't there before. I am reminded of my failure.

My bra doesn’t fit right because I have boobs again—I missed them.

I run up the stairs to my studio and feel my ass jiggle. Another cue. I clench my teeth and begin to condemn myself for not trying hard enough for not being better at losing weight.

I am weak for giving up. I am weak for not being able to go meals without eating. For not wanting to throw up after one. For not saying no to cookies at work.

I hate others that are thin that eat whatever they want with no abandon. Skinny girls that walk around in their cute outfits drinking, not caring about the calories.

I try on countless outfits only to end up in my underwear with clothes littered around me. I am faced with just my reflection. I'm in my Victoria's Secret matching set. I look nothing like those models.

I look away to avoid crying.

After dinner and giving into eating more than I should I have to pack for a river floating trip.

I get everything done except my bikini. I put my game face on and grab the one I'm always comfortable in. The one with the bottoms that sometimes sag and make me feel ok. I pull them on, there is no sag, they are tight and I'm ballooning out of every inch of it. And no I'm not being sarcastic. They don't fit anymore and it looks like I'm trying to wear a fucking thong rather than bottoms.

I try on another pair, my cellulite is there for all to see. My imperfections standing loud and proud. Mocking me.

I try on one more and they are a little better. But as my eyes trace my thighs that touch and my dimpled skin and my curves I feel them coming, the tears, the hot white anger and the shame.
There's nowhere for me to go, to hide, to make things better, this here and now is who I am and I can't fucking stand it.

I'm torn between breaking down and ripping my body to shreds. Screaming, throwing, fighting, destroying whatever I can. Then I cry. I pull the bottoms off and hide in a blanket. Me and my pathetic self.

Did you know that I haven't worn a bathing suit all summer? Well now you do. Not once. You know what's sad to me is that I work out all the fucking time and I'm still not in good enough shape to be seen almost naked. And I'll go through this entire summer hiding. When will I be good enough?

And it upsets me that I feel this way. I really wish I didn't. I envy guys that can just pull on baggy board shorts and go. For girls it's not easy.  I wish I could remember what I just realized recently. I truly understand what they say about media's influence on us.

The only life I really know outside my own is what's on tv or what people chose to tell me. So all I've seen about norms with sex, relationships, success, body image has been learned through television. But when I go to the beach and see girls that are heavier than me pulling off bathing suits with more confidence than me, it puts me at ease. I see the truth I guess. But I don't ever remember this. Plus if the movie stars can look perfect then why not me?

Fuckers.