he’s pretty cooh. I like him.
he is a little too affectionate sometimes, but I think we can learn one another’s love language and figure it all out.
he’s smart and awesome and sweet and all of those lovely things.
I kinda sorta maybe let on that I have an eating disorder. well, i told him that anxiety causes me to rule out all of the following food groups (as well as 8 year long vegetarianism):
carbohydrates in any form besides oatmeal, select fruit, and vegetables
any type of starchy anything
any real sugar
any drink with calories besides wine and gin and occasionally bourbon
fake meat products
fats of any kind
he is worried. esp when I told him my period has been MIA for almost 2 years. But, I mean, he seemed supportive. and said it didn’t change how he felt. So, we’ll see.
yesterday I wore a tank top, and looked like a starving child, and my friends stared and my boyfriend didn’t bat an eye.
my arms are emaciated. my chest is sunken. i look good with clothes, i look like hell without them. my veins stick out.
i can’t go for a hike in woods without almost passing out, then napping all afternoon, and my fucking ocd medication makes my stomach twist and turn in knots, which doesn’t make me want to eat.
but I did eat ice cream last night. It was some girl scout kind, and delicious. and I don’t feel bad about it. I do, however, wish I wanted real food. I can manage to eat ice cream. I’ve got no problem with it, but real food? no way. only vegetables. i need to maintain, i need to probably put on about 10lb. 95 is not healthy.
I hate my eating disorder. I hate how gross I look. I hate that it has taken so many things from me.
i don’t want to fall into self pity today, but I’m not going to lie, I’m sad.