I wake up at 1pm the next day, still wearing my dress from last night. Immediately after opening my eyes, the light from my window blinds me. Ugh, I shield my eyes and roll over. I pull my hands away to see black streaks staining them, and I realize I'm still in my clothes and makeup from last night. I snap out of my dreamlike state and remember that awful date, and then coming home and getting plastered alone. Why do I do this to myself?
I ignore the wave of nausea as I roll out of bed and head to the bathroom. I pop an Advil and take a piss. I feel so gross. I'll feel better if I shower. I tell myself. It can be such a chore to take proper care of myself sometimes. This pandemic has only amplified it. I have no structure in my day anymore and I have a hard time structuring myself. It's a damn shame.
I realize I've been on the toilet for almost ten minutes now. I stand up and get in the shower. I step in, and sure enough, I do feel a little better. I lather up some soap and work it over my arms, neck, boobs, and tummy. As I work the later onto my lower abdomen, I remember what Jared said last night when he insinuated i was out of shape and my mood darkened. "Fuck that guy." I say out loud, but then I look down and realize there's some truth in his words. I have let myself go. Instead of the tight flat stomach that my friends envied, is a thick layer of fat that wraps around the bottom of my torso and hangs over a bit. How did I not notice this?
After drying myself off, I stood in the mirror and talked myself up to weigh myself. If I'm being honest, I'm a little scared to know the number. I take a few breaths and step on the scale. 155 lbs?? I was 116 at the start of the pandemic six months ago. How did I let this happen?
I started a diet that very instant. I threw out all my junk food and beer and printed out all kinds of diet recipes. I stocked my fridge with veggies and lean meats. I squeezed into my old waist trainer and I ate nothing for breakfast, a dressing-less salad for lunch, two grapefruits, and three boiled eggs for dinner. My borderline disordered high school diet.
It's only eight o clock but I'm going to bed early to keep myself from breaking my diet already. I'm starving and so close to giving up so I will force myself to go to sleep. I lay there for two hours, sleepless and listening to the rumbles of my belly before I snapped. I got up and called bellacinos pizza without a second thought. I rationalize with myself while the pizza is on the way. Only two pieces and I have to wear my waist trainer while I eat. Fair enough right?
