The Grass is Always Greener

You know, it's not even about losing weight anymore.

I just really hate having to stop and eat. Or think about what I'm going to eat. Or have that stomach ache from over eating.

Mostly I hate spending money on food.

Life would just be so much easier if I didn't get cravings for things and could simply take a little nutrition pill and get on with my day.

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I'm looking at water bottles right now. Mine smells from not washing it after using it for juice. Can't get another aluminum (by the way, Americans... we have been saying it "wrong" apparently. As strange as it sounds, it does actually make sense to say it "AL-U-MINI-yum!" like you say other things on the periodic table. Still, it sounds ridiculous to my ears) bottle because last one I had ended up getting rusty because I left a little puddle in the bottom for too long.

Really, I just need a dish washer. This would save countless wasted bottles.

Another recent occurrence is that I've gotten back on the meat train. I usually don't have a second thought about eating meat, so when I start to crave it obsessively, something inside me thinks I must be super protein deprived and anemic so I let it happen for a bit. Get it out of my system so I won't bruise as easily.

Anyway the reason I need the water bottle and I'm mentioning about the meat is I feel like if I can start carrying around tons of H2O and bring a packed lunch I'll be more temptation free.

I just really miss the days of eating frozen grapes for lunch.

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Yesterday I went to get a refill on my Prozac. Haven't seen my GP in months since I had my own little supply going for awhile. She started doing the "ooh looks like you overdosed on paracetamol... would you like to talk about it?"

No. Not particularly. Jesus, this is when I start getting bitter and annoyed. I know where this conversation leads... "Well, do you have any thoughts of hurting yourself now?"

Yes. I always do, idiot. I'm just not going to do it right now. Let's focus on fixing my head and not pretending to worry about me just so you can cover your ass, liability wise.

"I wonder, do you have a plan? Do you know what you would do?"

OK, this is the stupidest part. I always smile and answer, "I know what will and won't work if that's what you're asking." BLANK STARE. Obviously that wasn't but now he or she looks concerned.

"Well do you have access to a gun? Or medication?"

Lady, I hate to break it to you, but the world is a dangerous place. Why would I bother finding a gun when I could walk down to my local underground station and save myself time and money. Dumbshit.

I think by this point people are so shocked at my candid nature and sheer disinterest that things start to get awkward and uncomfortable. The topic gets changed. Alas, they won't give me refills on my crazy medication because they are suckers for pain and like to squirm in their chair once a month to reassure themselves I'm not rotting away somewhere or causing society too much trouble.

Blah.

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Sorry I haven't been around lately. I just don't feel like I have anything intelligent to contribute. My days consist of struggling not to stand on the scale and finding that balance between malnourishment and binge eating.

Doesn't seem like anyone would want to hear the woes of a girl who can't decide the next path for her life. Straddling the fence between blissful recovery and comforting insanity.