Strike Six

It is 3:34 PM.
My sister will be home in 26 minutes. Mumma will be home around then too.
6pm is dinner time.
Disaster.
8pm should be supper but I can't control myself and I will eat it at 6:30 straight after dinner. That is, if I stop dinner at 6:30.
Then I can finally go for a walk and sleep.

My afternoon snack was a few dried apple slices and my unfinished cup of milk [Apparently "flavoured milk" does not include coffee. Coffee is a flavour. It just doesn't happen to have as many calories as Milo or Sustagen. I can hide behind my mask of "I don't count calories" (which I do avoid)]

I am just glad the day is almost over. I look forward to a new start tomorrow because today is already messed up. I woke up with the intention of going to the gym and I was looking forward to it. I woke up with the intention of missing breakfast and having only my morning tea (half of it), going to the gym, coming back to my lunch, then getting on with my day as normal.

Instead, I ate breakfast, "fun food" and bits of leftovers from last night too. The meal had no definition but more like: chew and spit, shit accidentally swallowed, well that failed, eat all the chocolate, okay STOP please, I can still keep this sane, naah jokes eat more Diwali sweets, sesame snaps, walnuts, chocolate, oh shit what have I done?, well I know how to fix this- so I did. 

It was disgusting.

I went back to bed and wondered whether I should still go to the gym. I know purging causes cardiac arrhythmias, low potassium, dehydration and a load of other chemicals flipping in my body. I know that I could literally die at the gym if I went in a starved state which I have apparently been doing for years, let alone after a B/P session. I could feel my heart sinking, as if the 60% water we are made of was trying to drown the rest of me. I didn't get out of bed until 12:20 pm. Past lunch time. I might as well not have it.

I did, and it sucked. The bread was wrong, the butter was wrong, the egg was wrong, the cheese was wrong, the salad leaves were gross and the pumpkin was not sweet enough. Plus, I realised that the amount of butter I was putting on my bread the other days was more than the serving size we receive at the clinic. Luckily, Snoopy does not care for the nutritional value nor the tidy layout of edible substances. He was pleased.

People think it's about food. Food is only the distractor. I will tell you what this is about:

People just die. Suddenly. Out of nowhere. In the past week I have come across three such incidents, one which was the 12 year old brother of my sister's friend. I had not met this child, but this is not the cycle of life. No matter the size of the puncture in a wheel, it leads to a flat tyre.
I am not reacting how I should. How should I react? Not by raging at everyone I care about, that is for sure.

Nancy is home. She is worried about what she will wear to the funeral tomorrow.
Mumma is home. She asks me what I want to eat for dinner.

I turn the TV up.

Clean slate tomorrow. Clean, not empty.


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