I'm pretty convinced that if I was evaluated, I would be diagnosed with BED, like for serious. I came home today and binged for a full 30 minutes and have felt like killing myself ever since. Whatever happened to yesterday's new inspiration? Well I guess sleep deprivation and stress had a little to do with it, or maybe I'm just a tub of lard who may as well just eat herself into a coma/death because she'll never be skinny enough anyway. I have a food baby, well more like a food baby elephant...

In addition to the major food pains, apparently I managed to use some ridiculous stomach muscles I never knew I had while jump roping yesterday, and I'm so sore that it was actually hard to use the muscles to sing in choir today. That's a good thing though, because it means something's working.

I'm such a joker thinking I could ever be able to lead a somewhat "normal" life while also simultaneously restricting. I know that the rituals have to happen, the isolation, the tireless planning, the insomnia, the hoarding, hiding, and rationing... they just have to happen. But it's worth it to feel my dirty outer shell disappearing.