Its scary. There is one moderatly pleasing aspect of how nervous and upset I have been constantly for the last however-long-its-been: I lose weight. I forget to eat, my stomach is uneasy so too many things make me sick, and I worry myself through caffiene and pace around enough to count as a sloth form of exercize.
In a way, I like it. It's like a reward. I'm not suggesting for a moment that I've suddenly become model thin, not even plus size model thin...I've just become thin enough to start recieving the coveted "you look like you've lost weight" which if conveyed correctly can really boost the ole ego.
But its rooted in a deep seeded unhappiness. That smells self-destructive to me. But I've also in a sick way never felt this good. Its terrible. I try at least to make the stuff i manage to eat healthy(ish). I take vitamins and drink loads of water. I pray I don't do any more irreperable damage than being me on a daily basis has already done. I also (notso)secretly pray for a size 12 some day.
