Oh, to be a woman. To be categorically psychotic.
Such fun times.
I realized, in my attempts at nothingness this week, that I was also pmsing a week and a half early, thanks to living with a group of other females. No wonder I've been crazy the past five days.
Anyway (past the TMI...apologies to the few--if any--who ever read this), today is a better day. I've stepped up my academic vigor a little, which gave me a little boost in self-confidence. Alas, Ana never fails to bring you back down to your pitiful little place; I also realized my scale has been off by four pounds for who knows how long. Sigh. More the reason to cut back, I suppose.
I've been rocking the no dinner thing, also. Don't get me wrong; it's as hard as hard gets--especially when my freaking roommates are stuffing their faces with macaroni and cheese every night--but I'm somehow managing to stay strong. That's one thing I always appreciate about this disease; while it's seemingly never-ending, the small bouts of soaring control manage to fit their way in, and resisting temptation on a nightly basis is no exception.
Like they always say: you can't taste thin, but you can feel it.
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