It’s 11 o’clock, and I’m supposed to eat.

It’s 11 o’clock, and I should eat. It says so on my food plan – evening snack. My food plan that my very expensive and talented dietician developed for me that I still don’t understand. But I’m not hungry, and I don’t want to eat. I ate enough today – I had to eat twice as much at breakfast because I was hungry, and I really hate that. It set my whole day off, having two breakfasts. I didn’t have much of a choice, my sons and husband were sweet and made me breakfast, but it wasn’t the right thing or I don’t know but I was hungry so I ate more. I shouldn’t eat more. I shouldn’t eat more than I need to get by. It’s better when I just eat less. Then I don’t have to worry about getting fat.

It’s 11 o’clock – the grandfather clock just chimed – and I’m supposed to eat now. I had popcorn, does that qualify as a snack? I think it was maybe 3/4 of a cup – maybe even a cup. It tasted buttery, but it was low-fat. I know because I wouldn’t buy it otherwise. I only ate it so my kids and husband wouldn’t think I was being weird. I do a lot of things so my family doesn’t think I’m weird.

There’s a part of me that’s awakening, that remembers not being weird. A part that reminds me that I used to be able to eat a regular piece of toast without freaking out. That I used to be able to go to community spaghetti dinners, eat pizza, and drink beer. I bought beer today for DH and Skinnygirl cocktails for me, because Skinnygirls are 35 calories and a beer is 138. I can’t have a beer. I could, I suppose, but instead I could have half of a potato and a cup of green beans plus my 1.5 oz of Skinnygirl.

My dietician said that she talked with T and they agreed that my ED was worsened by stress. That when I am stressed I continue to volunteer for more or work more or write more or sleep less and make myself more stressed. I don’t think I’m a masochist, I think that if I stop for too long whatever it is I’ve been running from my whole life will catch up to me.

In the meantime, I’m supposed to eat. I don’t know what to eat. I want someone to put a tube in me and fill it with stuff so that I don’t have to think about what to eat. D says I should eat whatever I feel like eating. But it’s 11 o’clock and I don’t feel like eating anything. But I will go into the kitchen and find something not terrible which I will eat with my Skinnygirl, because that’s what good girls do. We do what we’re told, and I was told to eat, and for some reason the night time eating was really important, and so I’ll eat. It’s 11 o’clock and I don’t want to eat. I just want to disappear for awhile. I just want it all to go away – everything – the emails, my students, the bills, the hearth rug I’m supposed to order and the huge box that needs to go to UPS. The taxes I haven’t done and the medical bills I need to gather for my father’s accountant. The checks I need to write, and the laundry I need to put away. I’m running from my life, because I’m just so damned tired I want it to stop, for just a little bit.

And so I’ll eat, at 11 o’clock. Because my plan so far? Sucks. And any plan is better than mine.


3 thoughts on “It’s 11 o’clock, and I’m supposed to eat.

  1. I know it’s not even the same day now, but I hope you had that night snack πŸ™‚ Even when you don’t want to or feel like eating, think of food as the medicine you need to get better and fight this eating disorder. You can do it, stay strong ❀

    Liked by 1 person

  2. You are very strong! We all have those thoughts that work against everything we are told will make us better, but that’s the point. Although we generally can’t do crap to change the thinking behind this shitty disease, we can change how we act. We have to start somewhere to change, and actions are what we have the most control over. You are doing great! Beautiful writing as well πŸ™‚ Just remember, you’re doing wonderful.


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