Today I walked about a mile each way to a gas station to buy a blue Gatorade.
In the hospital, they gave me blue Gatorade as a snack every day, and now I’ve come to rely on it. When I’m hungry between meals I drink my blue Gatorade. It’s my safety blanket that stops me from snacking but still makes me feel connected to my recovery.
It makes me feel like I’m doing good even when I know I’m not.
I was engaging in behaviors all day today. I was trying to stay moderate, but I couldn’t help weighing myself, body checking in the mirror, and I was so terrified of gaining any more weight than I already had that I only reluctantly allowed myself an apple for breakfast.
When I went walking it was in the hopes of getting a little exercise, on top of my blue Gatorade of course.
When I was checking out, the cashier looked at me and said, “So skinny, I like it!”
Warm blood flushed to my cheeks. I was so pleased with myself. This is what I’m doing it for, I thought. I don’t look “sickly”. People like it.
People who don’t know me, who have never seen my plumper frame, see beauty in my smaller figure.
My motivation to eat plummeted.