I feel so sick with myself. I am too undisciplined. Nothing, nothing ever works with me. I used to be so good. I used to be able to eat without binging. I used to like knowing that I was eating smaller and smaller portions, I used to like knowing that I could expect one of my favourite meals a week away, because it gave me something to look forward too. But now I just can't. When I'm hungry, I'll eat. When I'm full, I'll eat more. When there's food around, I'll eat it, even if I find it disgusting. For instance, today. Today was just a huge mess. I had originally been planning only to eat dinner. This plan failed when I went downstairs, craved some peanut butter and dipped my finger- yes, dipped my finger- into the jar to get some. It filled me up pretty well, all 180 calories of it, and I thought that would be it until dinner. But no, my mom comes downstairs and tells me to eat some toast. No way out of it, I thought, so I had some toast PLUS jam and MORE peanut butter! So, probably more calories than my normal breakfast, and more unhealthy. Still, feeling alright, so I go into town after drinking lots of coffee to suppress my appetite. Go into town, meet my friend, have about 150 cals worth of raisins, but still feeling alright. Then we go to Costa and I have a few bites of chocolate cake, and also finish off his frescato as well as my coffee and milk and sugar. But, I think, it's only a little bit so I'm still feeling alright. I walked all day, suppressed my appetite relatively well, and wasn't planning on eating when I got home. I walked home, maybe 2-3 miles, feeling good. Walked in the door, changed, went downstairs.
And that's where it went really wrong.
As soon as I got downstairs, I couldn't resist one teensy weensy little digestive worth 120 calories. Then we had dinner, albeit a healthy one, of pasta, olive oil, anchovies, broccoli and red peppers. Had a modest serving, about half a plateful. Then went back to get more broccoli. Feeling more full. Then went back again to get another half a plateful. I'm stuffed now, so I finally stop. Then, I can't resist another digestive. That's 240 calories of digestives. I know I'm being a pig, an utter pig, so I break it into little bits and stuff it into my mouth. And then- this is the worst bit, as if it isn't bad enough- I'm bored so I make cinnamon bread. Cinnamon bread, just loaded with sugar, milk, eggs and all the shit that makes you fatter and fatter and fatter. So I'm stirring the batter, and I can't resist a little taste. I put too much sugar in, but I don't care. And then suddenly I'm binging, scooping spoonfuls of the stuff into my mouth, knowing that I'm appalling and fat but I can't stop. Finally I do, after about FIVE HUGE SPOONFULS of the stuff, so I put it in the oven. Then, when I take it out, the bottom comes off when I take the fucking bread out of the pan. By now I know my plan's been ruined, and I fucked my whole day up, so I think that I may as well finish it badly. I scrap off the stuff that was stuck to the bottom and eat it. It's disgusting, burnt yet sweet, not a good mix but I keep on eating and eating it. And it's crumbly, so all the little bits keep coming off, but I just pick them up again and eat it until all is gone. And then I come on here and nearly cry because I fucked up and I'm fucked up and everything just fucked up for me because I am soooo undisciplined.
1 year ago