Monday - Rehydration
I'm writing this at 7:15 on a Monday morning;
I've been awake since 3am and used the lonely hours of the morning to finish Portia De Rossi's memoir (I'm behind the 8 ball I know, I half read it years ago and subsequently forgot about it). I don't know what I was expecting, and I'm so glad she's in a better spot but damn it was raw and real. I also feel like even more of a fat lump, like I'm not good enough for the disorder. Like I'm too much and not enough at the same time. Oxymoron.
Okay enough rambling.
So the original plan was to liquid fast yesterday, but it didn't quite go that way.
An apple, a bowl of porridge and two slices of bread later at about 7pm, I feel like a guilty gluttonous fat fuck, even now - the morning after as this definitely had an effect on this morning's weight..
Weigh in this morning after re-hydrating the shit out of myself post-GP appointment and regretfully eating, my weight by my scales this morning was 47.6kg.
I'm not happy about it. I shouldn't have eaten yesterday but I feel like I'm treading a very fine line between sustaining my current intake and my body giving out.
My head won't stop shouting at me.
My low blood sugars are becoming a real pain in the arse problem.
My heart is doing some uncomfortable stuff.
But I can't end up back in hospital. I'm far too fucking big for that.
I have to last until this planned heart procedure on Friday, which ironically, is in a hospital. Ha.
No unplanned admissions. Not happening.
Today the aim is to keep my intake below 400 calories as an absolute maximum, ideally hoping to only have porridge and an apple and no more. Yoga this morning. Netball tonight. Keep busy, stay out of the house so to not be tempted with food.
Caffeine and diet pills are my salvation.
Fuck I'm tired.