I suppose that there is some truth to the old idiom that a change is as good as a holiday, but I must disagree... A holiday is as good as it gets. The only time this is not true is if you get hijacked by Somalian pirates, or a monkey steals your wallet and then proceeds to throw its poo at you. Luckily for me neither of these things occurred in sunny Melbourne. In fact, in sunny Melbourne, I lost another kilo. And not one of my friends noticed what I was doing! Bliss! While there was considerable alcohol consumption, I managed to keep my actual food intake to a bare minimum and insisted on walking everywhere to keep my activity levels up. I even snuck in a run one morning. So as far as a holiday goes, that was a good one!
When I returned home, my husband picked me up from the airport, drove me home and then proceeded to fuck me sideways. I guess he must have missed me. We ended up talking for hours about his infidelity, past issues and expectations for our marriage. His honesty was refreshing, not to mention incredibly reassuring. It was then that he sprung the inevitible question on me... "Honey, how come you're losing weight so fast? You're not... doing anything stupid are you?" Poor sweet blossom. Yes, darling, yes I am doing something stupid. But like I'm going to tell him that. I trotted out the same line I used on my therapist. I need control, I need to take charge of my life and regain my independence, opportunities and self-worth. I need to be thin to have those things. He nodded sagely then asked what I have to do to get there. I told him I was going to fast for a week. He said ok. You could have knocked me down with a feather. I guess this is his way of saying sorry. (At least, that's how I choose to interpret it!)
But it was his next question which floored me... "So when do I have to get worried about you? How skinny do you need to be before I have to check you into the psych ward?" I'm sure I heard a chorus of angels singing songs of heavenly praise! So I told him if I dropped below 52kg that would be below a BMI of 20. What he doesn't know can't hurt him, right? I warned him that I might look skinner than other girls at this weight because I've got such heavy bones and muscles... lie lie lie... He swallowed it all up with a sigh of happiness. I fed it to him with a sigh of happiness. And there we lay, together in our happiness, me in my madness, him in his ignorance. T'was the the most blissful moment.
So, now I am free to restrict my intake how I please and say that I'm still in the 'healthy' range. No questions asked. This month will be beautiful, 500 or less cals, broken up with a few days/weeks of 200 or less. It is extraordinary to admit, but for the first time in months, I like my husband again. I feel... happy. Lets hope it lasts.
Bless to all,