Running away from ghosts

The trouble with dieting is it haunts you and continues to haunt you even when you give it up (or try to give it up). There are constant reminders: the scales in the bathroom daring you to jump on for a moment (what are you afraid of?), the snacks I need to have in the house as I’m not on a diet but they keep calling to me and worst of all the nasty thoughts that keep circulating in my mind that if I don’t watch it I am going to end up in a huge tent of a dress, the kind of woman that gets laughed at in the street with my ever-expanding backside. My logical brain will tell me that even if I ate 24 hours a day it would take ages to get to that stage but every time I feel I take my eye off myself I worry that I am skittering along, out of control, destined to be an awful sight, to be laughed at, mocked. It feels frightening but I know I can’t go back, I can’t live the rest of my life on this hideous merry-go-round, this sad obsession with how I look, what I eat and yet I can’t leave it behind.

I can tell you what I eat every day. I am getting better at identifying hunger but I seem to have forgotten leaving food on my plate. I am trying to make it natural but the old habits seem so deeply carved into me that I have to keep vigilant, keep watching: there’s no-one out of control around here, understand? So I’m trying to eat unconsciously naturally but at the moment I feel in a permanent (well almost permanent) panic about what I am eating, why I am eating it and where I will end up. It feels depressing but I know I have to keep soldering on down this road but it feels lonely and windswept, it feels like there are creatures lurking behind the trees waiting to jump out and frighten me, with my own fears. I am struggling.


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