Well I do not believe it fully but for the first time in months I slept. Properly and restoratively slept. And can you believe that there is no recriminations for it inside myself? I had at least four hours almost solidly; went to the toilet; had possibly another hour; then another one. I awoke this last time at five to six and feel entirely better. I feel as if I still need to go a little to the toilet, have asked to be weighed so that at least I can have a base line weight that means something, post-diarrhoea and post-trauma of yesterday and also before I drink gallons or get dressed today.
And today will be my first day on the new eating regime and it feels daunting. Its only worrying insofar as I have no clue how my body will react to the change in intake and its slightly disconcerting given how nauseous I felt yesterday after the first milky, yacky drink. And yet I don’t want to think of them like that, because ironically I don’t, just as a necessary part of the progression to proper food, which allows the weight gain which then gives me a nice and easy life without the presence of food being a dominant factor in my every day comprehension. Only then will we truly be able to move: move forward, move on and literally move (physically and in respect to property/house etc.)
But that is a little way in the future – and after I establish myself within this pattern. I am responding initially to doing it as calorifically according to them as possible. For instance I fancied some orange juice just now and yet I have to have a glass of orange at some point and rather than let them think I’m not having all of it I feel, at least until I see how the new day staff react, there will be benefit in allowing myself to be constricted at least a little to their timings and their way of doing things.
Further on than yesterday: I thought I would gain so much more insight and wisdom overnight but in actual fact I don’t think it was necessary. I gave my all in my blog…and then lost myself in Hairspray so totally that I was overwhelmed by it. It reignited my passion for that sort of corny entertainment, the all-singing, all-dancing, high energy performance which totally takes over the audience (or the viewer) with so much enthusiasm and feel-good factor. And I was mesmerised and impressed and I don’t want to give the DVD to Mum now!!!
Anyway – there was something that emerged out of it for me. The storyline relates to prejudice; against fat people and coloured people. And the lead girl is overweight, a dancer with amazing rhythm that’s excluded because of that and ignored by the most handsome, best dancer in her school. The story goes along and the guy eventually realises he loves her – soppy, romantic, heart-warming drivel! But I used to have to have that fantasy: where the bloke would fall in love with me against the odds because he’d see that my weight didn’t make me unlovable but I had deeper qualities which were so lovable that he’d fall in love with the fat girl.
I’ve been denied that dream and I only realised it last night. I’m never going to be fat again – not because I’m adamantly asserting that but its just a sensation I have deep inside that emerges from knowing how much I literally can’t be. It would be a) physically difficult and b) something that isn’t relevant any longer and c) something that I wouldn’t imagine could happen seeing as I sense the desire inside me to keep my body really well-toned, well-nurtured and well-fed! (In the healthy and nutritious way I have always been drawn towards…)
And its funny that Mum was saying yesterday she didn’t like the creamy, saucy meals that I have been giving her the recipes for. I’m not hugely surprised and am relieved that I won’t have to cook them for her because they aren’t me, either. I sense that I am going to live the rest of my life petite, with a purity of diet that reflects the purity of my internal capacities. I am pleased that thick, creamy sauces don’t resonate with the woman I am going to share the next few years with at least, because I feel that we’ll be able to eat and nurture one another to heal together now.
But what fantasy can I have instead? I no longer need the dream of being loved in spite of everything that may suggest that I might not be. I no longer can have the hope that the handsome guy in school will notice me – for now I don’t want to be noticed and in the future I know my ease of self will mean that those people that are right for me will come towards me without resistance. This leaves not a lot of scope for the storyline to take place in my life where love conquers all and turns round the preconceptions allowing romance to bloom.
I suppose I’ll just have to become a musicals star and live out that myth every night whilst having lived my correctness during the day. Particularly where I have overcome preconceptions already in my life it seems ironic that I desire any more to fight against. I don’t think I won this battle – there is a meeting with Dr Zadeh in four weeks time ‘just to check my progress’ etc. But I get the greatest sense I will win the war. Purely because I want to. It’s the only reason I put up with the drinks and the monitoring: because I desire the end result. And horrid though such pejorative treatment feels, it is the step between where I was and freedom. And no-one said it was a) in a straight line, b) going to be easy or c)how long it was going to take to get there. But at least after a day where it almost didn’t materialise, today things can start to happen.
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