Massa Recovery! I am your Grasshopper.

Along with eating more calories. Which I am still struggling with. I don’t even want to count my calories today cuz I’m pretty sure they will not be sufficient. Since this ED weaseled it’s way into my life eventually taking over I have become more and more secluded. Which is saying something since I have never been Ms. Popular Butterfly. Things began to change last year and now it seems they are gaining momentum.

ED definitely makes for a moody brood (and moody cocks too but that’s another story). I’ve noticed that my moods are way better these days, more stable. It makes it easier to socialize even when I’m not feeling super social it’s way easier to fake it now a days. I’m communicating more with my friends and family and, naturally, this leads to “let’s get together!” It’s also easier to not eat shitty foods because of my skin but I’m still a lush. Cheers! 

Speaking of Cheers and socializing. I was butterflying on New Years Eve and I met a guy. We’ve been texting since and the occasional phone call. He is suppose to come out on Saturday. And then he text and said his friends were getting together on Sunday and would I look to come too. So now we’re basically spending the weekend together. I guess. I don’t know if Sunday is in lieu of Saturday. I hope not but you know I over think and try and think of all the possibilities! Ever. In the world. I’m actually looking forward to hanging out with him and seeing how things go.

But then…not. My body is a mess. I have “eliminated” in a week and a half. I’m full of shit. And I’m 10 days late on my period. There is a small chance. I’m hoping that it’ll show up during the weekend. The wifey poses the possibility of my calorie intake not being sufficient and that is what is throwing things off. Let us hope. And pray. And do rain dances and shit cuz HOLY HELL. And the worst part about all this shituation is-oh wait…is not actually the worst part. Whatever! The problem is my fatness! I’m bloated as fuck! My belly protrudes like I’m 10 and a half months pregnant with shit baby! And the rest of me is complying with chub and bloat.

I know it’s not the worst part. Not really. My weight shouldn’t matter. My ED addled mind is screaming! RESTRIIIIIIICT!!! EXERCIIIIIIIISE!!! And then there is recovery, logical, stern and calm. Recovery is in it for the long run. It sees the big picture. ED means being alone. ED smothers me into solitude. If I want the life that I want (with people in it!) then I’m going to have to suck it up and focus on being healthy. I’m going to have to try and get past the fact that I’m big and soft and try to look the best that I can get big and soft to look. And then forget about it and be thereThere as in, “in the moment.” (I listen and retain Wifey!)

Things are going well over all. I feel like I’m on the right track. My cousin is moving to Oklahoma to be with a guy. She feels stuck and needs a change and this man is offering her what she wants, and so she’s taking a chance. I’m happy for her. I was reflecting on our conversation later on while I was arts and crafting it up in my apartment and I thought again how I’m good. Sure, I wish I had more friends and I wish my body weren’t so fucked up and more money would be nice! But I’m so grateful for what I do have. My apartment. My relationships with family and friends. My relationship with my MOM (she drove me fucking insane before I moved out). My job. When I was caught up in ED these parts of my life were just…there, ignored and collecting proverbial dust. Now all these aspects in my life are improving and I attribute this to the lack of ED clogging up my brain space. Just imagine when ED is gone! GONE! GAAAAAWWNE!!!!!!

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