F is for…
Full Disclosure. The information contained in this post may not be suitable for all audiences. Reader Discretion Advised.
F is for…
Food Baby, which I had for
Four Days. Four long days.
Fact. Food Babies during recovery are inevitable.
F is for…
Fatigue, because food pregnancy makes you tired, despite indicating a generous amount of…
Fuel.
Frustrating.
F is for…
Full. Feeling So. Very. Full. So uncomfortably full.
For Four Days.
F is for…
Fearing the worse.
F is for…
Fighting the temptation to let this ruin my days or restrict my eating and conducting myself like a
Frick-Fracking recovery warrior princess.
Fake it till you feel it.
F is for…
Friendly conversation at the gym, as I explained to a stranger why I could not run. “I think I’m too skinny.”
F is for…
“Fine” That’s what the friendly stranger said.
“You look fine to me! What do you weigh [insert my weight + 15 pounds here]?”
F is for…
Flawed Logic, which I obviously have because I readily agreed with him despite the opinions of many loved ones and the fact I have not menstruated in a decade.
Food Baby. Full. Four Days.
F is for…
Feeling.
Fat.
F is for…
F.
F is for…
Figuring out what you call the feeling you get when you feel fat, because fat is not a feeling.
and Failing. Once again.
F is for…
Finally reaching my breaking point yesterday. There is only so much I can handle.
Fully aware this might send me down a slippery slope I awoke on a mission: Operation Food Baby Domination!
F is for…
Finding every excuse, rationalization, and justification to eat less.
F is for…
Fooling myself into thinking this was not
Flirting with the enemy. That this was an option for me.
F is for…
Fantasyland.
My Favorite Place.
F is for…
Fantastic. Which would describe how I felt when my stomach began to growl with hunger. Too fantastic.
Frighteningly Fantastic. Seductively Fantastic.
F is for…
Forgetting about my ridiculous plans
and Fighting back.
F is for…
Feeding myself without restriction for the remainder of the day.
F is for…
Frick-Fracking Recovery Warrior Princess.
(Maybe I do have an inner princess after all.)
F is for…
Fun. Recovery from an eating disorder is no joke. It is painful, difficult, and complicated. But….sigh. If I can’t laugh in the middle of all this mess I will go insane.
I hope my light-heartedness is not taken the wrong way.
This post inspired by Sesame Street, Sara, and the Letter F.
