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Friday, November 9, 2012

I'll be thankful tomorrow...

I don't think I have it in me to write a thankful post today.  I could do it, really, but I don't have the energy to really reflect on the things that I am truly thankful I think I'll wait.

I'm feeling really down today.  It's another lonely day. A very self-pitying, self-depreciating, low self-esteem, depressed, lonely day.  Someone asked me a while ago (maybe a month or two, now?) what caused the "bad days".  That's the funny (or rather, completely un-funny) thing about bad days.  Absolutely nothing causes them.  Everything causes them. 

For today...

I've gained a lot of weight since Charlotte died...or maybe before she died, too.  To be honest, I didn't lose a lot of the weight I gained with Mia.  But now...good God, I'm enormous.  I can say with relative certainty that, according to all those height and weight charts, I am obese.  Awesome. 

...I will own (here, at least) that I am totally a comfort eater.  I know I should do other things.  Find other ways to seek comfort.  Be productive with my negative energies.  I know this all on a cognative level.  On an emotional level, it's easier to eat a bagel with honey butter.  Again, when Mike is gone to work, and Mia is gone to bed, I am left to myself, with my thoughts, with my emotional swamp.  Pass the trail mix...hold the raisins.  No one likes the raisins.

The thing is, I am so completely uncomfortable in my own skin right now.  I feel puffy.  I feel bloated.  My wardrobe has been reduced to the fattest of my fat clothes. They look bad, and I am constantly readjusting my shirt so it doesn't cling to my flabby stomach. I don't want Mike to touch me half the time because when he does all I think about is how muffin-top-like I must feel to him.  I am the anti-sexy.

I can't make myself care enough to actually do anything about it.  I'm so disgusted with myself that I...have a piece of pumpkin toast.  I have such low self esteem that I...drink another cup of coffee.  I think I may actually be trying to goad my body into self destructing.  When I was pregnant with Charlotte, I was so careful to take my vitamins, not drink caffeine (even the one cup we're allowed to have), not eat foods that could be harmful, not take hot, on the other side of loss, I just want to say, "screw it" and let my body fall off the metaphorical cliff.

...I'm wondering where the bottom is.  At some point, I imagine I'll get myself caught with a whipped cream can in my mouth, an empty ice cream carton, and cookie crumbs on my shirt...maybe the shame of that display of pure gluttony will jolt me back to reality.  I am not that person yet...I am still a handful of trailmix as a snack too often kind of comfort eater.  I clearly don't aspire to the disgusting depths of the pure glutton...but I worry that maybe my inner conscience's tendency to say, "screw it" will get me there.

I hope not.  For today, it's just a bad day, emotionally speaking.

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