I was almost on my last day of my under-400-a-day fast, and was doing wonderfully.
Alas, my other half comes out and proves me yet again, how incredibly weak I am. My mom came in to visit, and immediately I flashbacked to therapy, recovery...all of those things I've grown to hate the most in life. So, to appease her mind (she noticed my weight-loss so far; I told her it was from the flu), I ate. I ate, and I ate, and I ate, and I ate some more.
And this morning my stomach is swollen and grotesque, and I hate myself. I'm not even going near the scale.
Why, why would I let go of such an amazing, euphoric high of accomplishment for one stupid day of pleasing my damn mother?
Fuck.
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