A month today and I’ll be discharged. I’ll be free from this hospital. I’ll have my independence back. I’ll have control over what I eat (or don’t) I’ll be the one In charge of my food. People won’t have to watch me eat. I won’t have to be supervised after meals. I’ll have the Control. The ball. Or should I say food will be in my court. A month today. 28 days. And the planning has already begun. I’m not better. I’m not different to when I was when I came in. Yes physically I’ve changed I’ve put weight on my figures different. But mentally I’m still the same. Mentally I still don’t want to eat. Mentally I’m a mess. I bought an advent calendar but can’t even bring myself to eat one teeny tiny chocolate a day. How pathetic is that. It’s ridiculous. I’m a 27 year old woman and I’m scared of what an advent chocolate will do to me. How crazy!
I’m plotting my discharge. I’m not going to eat. On a good day I’ll be lucky to have one meal. I won’t do breakfast. I’ll use work as the excuse then lunch time if I go home I’ll fake it. If no ones in I’ll leave a plate on the side (dirty) to make it look like I’ve eaten and if someone is in I’ll have something light and make an excuse for dinner. I’ll pretend to eat out or eat a slimming world meal. I’ll get round only have one meal a day. I’m going to restrict as soon as I leave the four walls of this hospital. I need to. I have to.
I stood yesterday seeing if my thighs touch. If I squeeze my thighs they touch. I remember the day the were miles apart. That’s what I want back. I want to be able to see my rib cage. I’m jealous of the “celebrities” in the jungle who are losing weight. I want to be them. I need to be them. I need To lose weight. And I will. I have 28 more days here Ona weight gain diet then the Control is my hands and I’ll restrict. The weight will fall off. That’s the plan anyway!