I have four weeks of 'supervision' and "You don't eat anything! You're breaking my heart!" to get though. Lord, give me strength...
I am not the most gracious of people. I am an introvert. I like people, don't get me wrong, but there aren't many I can tolerate being in close quarters with for long periods of time. In fact, there are days I long to indulge in hours of solitude and navel-gazing. But most of all, I long for my freedom. The freedom to fast. The freedom to have a liquids only day. The freedom to restrict my calorie intake and exercise like a demon. But of late, these freedoms have been severely cramped.
Hats off to all who still live with their parents or guardians. How on earth do you manage? I can hardly throw teenage temper tantrums and storm off to my room, letting the door slip off my fingers and slam in the face of the freedom-offending person. I must maintain a decorum befitting a woman my age. I must keep my smooth, controlled exterior visible at all times and calmly laugh off the accusations of never eating. I must wear my 'normal' mask. But damn, it is starting to chafe!
Friday promises to be a day of freedom and I am looking forward to it with a vehemence. A will be out with my parents in law, all day, so I won't have the inevitable questions, the watching, the constant buzzing in my ear "eat something, eat something, eat something" Sheer bliss! But then she will inevitably return. It's enough to make me scream. But that would be a loss of control. We don't lose control, do we ladies? We are far too refined and delicate for that kind of plebeian display. We are the gifted ones. The blessed.
But 4 weeks? That is a stretch.
Bless to all,