If you live in or have ever been to Texas you know what this means. Or you could just read the cup..it’s clearly on there (lol).
What a scary, scary place for me to eat. But I really really needed to. Like really. I needed to eat something that might add value and a little nutrition to my body. So, I pretty much up and did it. Milestone. I seriously can’t stress enough how big of a deal it is for me to have eaten at Whataburger and not order a salad.
I ordered the Whataburger Jr. The kid burger, I’m well aware. I also ate apples. Baby steps y’all. I don’t think I could’ve handled much more than that. (Of course, they gave me a burger with cheese on it at first. I’m not ready for that either.)
Sorry, but we have to talk about this kangaroo bag they gave me my food in!!!!! How freakin’ cute is that?! How could you not be just a little bit excited?
This is me trying new things and trying not to blow a gasket. This is me, documenting the fact that I ate a hamburger. I can’t remember the last time I did that. That was brave. That was fearless.
All day I was apprehensive and trying to decide if I was going to really do this. I did it. Let me just say, that hamburger was pretty dang delicious.
Sometimes that burger can be referred to as a ‘Justaburger’ at that restaurant. For me, this wasn’t ‘Justaburger’ this was me telling myself that I’m trying to learn to accept myself. This was me saying that my body deserves to be nourished. I deserve to eat. I deserve for my food to taste good. I deserve to enjoy it without feeling guilty.
I don’t have a whole lot of words on this. I feel like I can’t really say more than I have. I mean, I ate a hamburger and I didn’t gain 7 pounds over night and I’m still here and all the people that love me are still loving me. It’s apparently…..okay.
So, when I came home last night and my husband asked me what I did today-besides get his mother’s Mother’s Day gift- I said….”literally all I did today was shop and eat a hamburger.” That was what I did. As insignificant as that sounds I did a ton yesterday.
If you are anything like me, you have a lot of random thoughts during the day. At least, I hope I’m not the only one. Lately, I’ve had this recurring thought that I can’t seem to shake about my condition with my eating disorder, recovery and overall health.
I find myself wondering daily if working out all the time and eating “healthy” is really all worth it anymore. Sure, you should probably treat your body nicely and not just shove junk food in it all the time. But at what point do we stop? At what point does “eating healthy” stop. At what point does “healthy lifestyle” stop for me?? I keep telling myself that I can cut down on the workouts and eat different food and eat a freaking hamburger every now and then (I literally can’t remember the time I ate one. Actually, I can’t remember the last time I ate fast food.) I’m scared of it. But I just kinda want Sonic so bad! But…I’m a scaredy cat. What else can I do? When can I stop killing myself to keep fit?
Lately, I walk around wondering when I stop torturing my body. When do I “let myself go” or “let myself live”? What is that point? I’ve been thinking lately, I’ve done the whole “super thin/fit/eating disorder look” hell, there are pictures to prove that from basically my entire college career and I’ve got bridal and wedding photos to prove that I was fairly sick. Do I really have to be that extreme anymore? Do I really have to keep trying to maintain a lifestyle where buying clothes at the store is a chore because of the size or only being able to eat certain foods on menus at restaurants because they don’t have an insane amount of calories or fat? Do I really have to constantly be a slave to some sort of running/elliptical every single day in order to maintain my current weight? Eventually, I’d like to think that I’m going to be able to take a day off from workouts and not freak the frick out or do yoga one day instead of intense cardio. There has to be a point where I can eat a sandwich on regular bread and not think anything of it, right? I mean, there is photographic evidence in my life that I was thin and I was capable of being a thin person. I will forever have those photos. So, do I keep trekking down that road? Do I stop and suddenly eat whatever normally is?
Does it end when I just give up working out altogether? I don’t necessarily think that’s the best idea. I think that might screw me up more. Right now I don’t have a ton going on so I would need something to fill my time. Plus, that sounds like I’m basically asking myself to be more restrictive with food. Does it end when I have a baby? If I can even have one. Does it end when I eventually get my first teaching job? I don’t think I will be able to come home from work every day and do a 30-45 minute running session. I just don’t. Which scares the ever-loving daylights out of me. You can’t even fathom how terrifying that is to me. That’s a whole bunch of change just thrown at me at once. I’ll be a first year teacher, have a job from at least 7:30-4, have to figure out dinner, commutes, and I just don’t see how workouts can always be an everyday thing. It’s scary.
This whole thought process of mine lately is scary. I just keep wondering…..what if I wasn’t a size 2, what if it was a size 4 or 6 instead. Would that change anything? Would people suddenly think I was ridiculous or would they even notice? I’m not saying I want to go from one extreme to another (which would be having a body weight that was no longer healthy for my height) I’m just saying that what if I finally got to live like a normal person?
Also, can I just go eat something from Sonic now???
I feel like I’m in a large dark hole right now. I pretty much feel miserable. Why, do you ask?I have no idea. I have no answer to your question. I just feel…really awful. Maybe I’m sad. Maybe I’m lonely. Maybe I’m just upset because I have a bunch of school work. Maybe it’s just that point in the semester. Actually though, it’s probably because I ate a salad for dinner when I much rather would’ve had a hamburger (with cheese), Schlotzskys, Chick-Fil-A, some cheese pizza, or for crying out loud some freaking french fries. Why don’t I eat those? Well, my answer is simple, because I can’t. Stupid answer and reasoning, I know. There’s no need to tell me that. I know I sound utterly ridiculous. Telling me to just eat would just be you wasting your breath and barking up the wrong tree. Why can’t I just eat those things? Because I immediately feel bad! I feel bad for even considering them. I just have this horrible crippling fear of being fat. What’s wrong with me? Why do I feel sad? Is there something I can do to make myself feel better or am I just destined to be like this forever? Do I just get to feel the need to work out constantly and like that’s the only way to fix anything for the rest of my life? Do I get to feel like curling up in a ball and crying forever? Do I get to feel like I’m only of value and my worth is determined by what I look like? Maybe, at the end of the day, I just want to hear these words of encouragement from one person. Just one person. I just want to hear him say he believes in me and that even though I’m scared to death of everything I’m feeling and experiencing right now he still believes in me. I just want to be open about it. I want to feel like I’m not hurting anyone with it when I feel this way. I think I just want to cry.
That was a really giant jumbled rambling mess. Basically, the point of this internal questioning is what’s going on with me and why do I feel like this? I didn’t ask to feel this way and I’m trying everything I can to somehow change that. I just feel like I’m a little girl and this shouldn’t be happening to me.