Wednesday, August 10, 2011
So I was sitting here thinking about food. When is there a day I don't think about food. It seems to overcome my thoughts every second of the day. How much have I eaten? Did I log it in my food diary? Did I eat the wrong thing? Am I eating to much? When can I eat again? Food is just a number. 110,90,60,210. The higher the calorie the better. I eat to live. Food doesn't bring me enjoyment. I don't wake up in the morning saying I am gonna have a big stack of blueberry pancakes with butter and syrup. I already know what I am going to have. The same thing I eat everyday. The same 5 choices. When I am having a bad day I wish I could run to my chocolate stash and start drowning my sorrows in chocolate. When it's raining outside I wish I could cozy up with the kids, and share a bag of popcorn while we watch a movie. How about the occasional hot fudge sunday? Oh I wish I could savor that again. I feel like so much has been taken from me. I feel robbed of the simple joys in life. I am so mad. Mad that I have this. Mad I once again in my life feel left out. I feel abnormal and weird. I hate every aspect of this disease. I hate what it has done to my mind, my heart, my family, my body and my life. I hate it. I hate you GP.