06/01/2012

Tomorrow (which will be today by the time I finish writing this) marks the beginning of June, which means I have a bit less than three weeks until my next doctor’s appointment.

Since my appointment in March, I have lost about 7 lbs, which isn’t earth shattering by any means.  I was supposed to be keeping track of my blood sugar levels, but I haven’t because, honestly, it’s triggering.  I get depressed about being an unhealthy piece of shit, I become sucked into a vortex of self-loathing, and I decide to attack myself.

Of course, my doctor will be pleased because I think, finally, I’m willing to have a blood test done.  I haven’t since just after I started college in 2005.  That’s when the cutting got really bad, from 2006-2010.  He was disappointed that I wouldn’t do one before, but was admirably respectful of the whole I-can’t-force-you thing.  I’m not accustomed to people respecting my boundaries.

I’m probably dying.  Wouldn’t that be ironic?  It might actually be a relief, to have the decision taken from me.  I could stop agonizing.

Anyway, I’m hoping to get it up to 10 lbs lost by then.  Every little bit helps, when you’re a fat fucking piece of shit like me.  The problem, though, is that I am always fucking starving.  I wake up ready to gnaw my arm off.  I wake up in the middle of the night completely ravenous.  We have dinner around 6:00, but by 4:30 all I can think about is food.  By 11:00 at night, I’m hungry.  Again.  Always fucking hungry.

It pisses me off, because I hate being hungry, and I hate needing to eat.   It’s like…body, shut the fuck up.  I fed you, now stop whining.  I drink a lot of water, but it doesn’t help. 

Maybe I should start perusing those pro-anorexia websites for tips on how to stop fucking eating.