It started out wonderfully, with all the beautiful snow and the sleeping in I got to do...but went flying downhill from there. I got up at 1pm (after another long sleepless night) and got myself ready to go out to do some shopping for my moms birthday. I went into the bathroom and made mistake number one, I weighed myself (for the first time in oh about a week) and it showed that I had gained 8 POUNDS!!!!!!!!! I then proceeded to have panic attack 1. I was so disgusted by the number I saw that it actually almost made me hurl!!! So as of right now I weigh the most that I have EVER weighed...and I want to die!
So after I calmed down (about 30 minutes later), I then got my dad and we headed out to the mall (in the snow). Then I made mistake number 2, and for some crazy reason forgot that I have awful passenger anxiety (I most likely forgot because I've been driving myself everywhere) and we were in SNOW! Cue panic attack 2. When we got to the mall, after I had chewed off every fingernail I could, we parked and headed into JCPenney's. Now I have had my eye on these cute jeans for a few weeks, and I finally had the money to get them, so I picked up my size and payed for them. That went fine. Then dad and I went to drop my stuff off at my job in the mall (my shift wasn't for another 4 hours) and bought mom a couple of things. That went fine. Then we went into RAVE because I had also been wanting a pair of leggings from there. When we get in, there were some really cute black skinny jeans for $10 and I really wanted them. So I picked up my size and headed towards the counter and my dad was like, "you gonna try em on?" and I said sure and went back into the dressing room, that was mistake number 3. When I go to try on the jeans, which are a size bigger that most of the ones I have at home, they wouldn't close and the tears started brewing in my eyes. I started to really cry when I couldn't get them off because they were clinging to my thighs and the dressing room asked me if I was okay because she could her me sniffling. I told that I got an upsetting text message (my friend actually did text me about christmas crap while I was in there, so it didn't sound like a lie). I managed to get the pants off while fighting back tears and sobbing, and left the dressing room. End panic attack 3.
I took the pants out and told my dad some crap about how I wanted to rip the jeans and wear leggings underneath them so I needed a bigger size. I got the next size up and did the walk of shame to the check out area. So not only am I at a number that I didn't even want god to see, but my ass won't fit in a size LARGER then I normally wear. I hate my life.
And because of all of this, I am seriously thinking about cutting for the first time in almost 3 months. The release and control that would give me is exactly what I need right now. I'll probably be up for another hour after I get off the computer because I'll need time to cry myself to sleep.
My whole life is going downhill all because I'm 'trying' to get 'help' for my 'eating disorder'. I'm trying my best to stick with my dietitian's advice and 'help' and what do I get for it? Two pant sizes bigger and new found level of hatred for myself.
night.
