I don't feel like sharing my life's story today (my very uneventful life's story) but I will in due time. All I want to vent about right now is that I have noodles boiling as I type. 3/4 of a cup! And I hate myself for it, and I can still stop myself from eating them, but I'm not going to.
I FINALLY was at 119 on Friday, a weight I haven't been since I was 14. Then I binged yesterday and today it's starting. I can feel it starting. I woke up with it gnawing at me and tried to convince myself I was fine by eating a small bowl of Boston Bibb lettuce with fresh lemon juice. I'm not hungry but until I eat these noodles, and I think it's safe to assume another food will start dominating my thoughts with complete disregard to the fact I'm not even hungry, I won't be able to function.
Then I take a step back and realize all this disgust and hate and guilt that I'm piling on myself for 3/4 cup of noodles with a slab of fake low fat butter and garlic salt. And how absolutely absurd it all is. And how much I fucking hate ittttttttttttttt I was up 2 lbs from yesterday thanks to my binge. You'd think that would be motivation for me to eat okay today. It's the last day of the weekend, the 3 nighted, two dayed monster that ruins everything. I am weak.
