Isn’t it ironic.

I just wrapped up watching all the seasons of Top Chef on Hulu. Yes, I have watched 14 seasons of a COOKING SHOW. While being anorexic. And while being anything other than what one could call a cook (much less chef).

Oh, the irony.

I just had to go out with co-workers for someone’s birthday. She chose a Thai restaurant. I ordered a Tom Kha soup, something I’d never had before, because it was a soup so I thought it couldn’t be that bad. I ate almost the entire bowl. Now, I feel like death.

I’m already planning the rest of the day. I have an appointment with the counselor in 1.5 hours so I thought I could just walk around until the appointment. But then a reminder on my phone told me I had a student appointment. I’ll go right after that, and still get an hour in. And I won’t eat anything else the rest of the day. I think that should take care of it.

113.4 yesterday and today.

I went to the eating disorder doctor today. She’s concerned because I lost 5 pounds this month. She wanted to know what I’ve been talking to the counselor about and whether I have hope about being successful.

I said I have two competing scary choices. I can keep losing weight, and get sick (sicker?). Or I can gain weight and hate myself and life. Oh boy, what choices.

She said 135 would be my ideal weight.

1. 3. 5. That is 22 pounds. 2. 2. Noooooope.

Meanwhile, I feel like, “Hey, I eat 600 calories (or a little more) everyday. I’m not that bad.” In fact, I feel like a bad anorectic. Because from what I read, real anorectics eat like 100 calories a day. At about 550-650 most days, I’m a fatty. I’m an anorectic fail. I’m losing weight, but very, very SLOWLY.

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