And I want to say it’s okay, that in the long run it’s not going to matter, and I just need to move on and keep on trucking but the feeling of losing control every few days just when you think you’re getting the hang of it is devastating.
The bright side is, I was going to absolutely devour the rest of the kitchen because, like many of us know, after you’ve already fucked it up, you think “might as well.”
But I didn’t. I ate that extremely large and extremely oily calorie stuffed pizza and planned on eating everything and anything else I could reach, even taking out all the ingredients necessary, and just as I am putting my food in the microwave I just stop.
I put everything away, back in its container, and grabbed some fresh pineapple and hot as far away from the kitchen as possible instead.
Now, I have no clue how many calories either were, and I’m probably hundreds below my calorie goal, but I stopped myself from making it thousands and that’s what matters in the long run. Still feel devastated, but it soothes the burn to think I actually stopped myself. I never thought I could do it. Slightly proud.
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