I could eat all day long. And it�s not that I�m eating a ton at each sitting, it�s just that within 30-60 minutes afterwards, I�m hungry again. And it�s not just appetite (though I am sure that�s part of it) because I can hear my stomach growling and feel the emptiness in it. I don�t know if it means my metabolism is working or if I�m just back to the old way, the pre-surgery way of life now. I hope not.
When I look in the mirror, I see the painful evidence of what I have done to my body. Even if I was stick thin, there would always be evidence. The extra skin that hangs, the weird lumps and bumps from where I haven�t lost evenly, the stretch marks that will never fade, not to mention the scars all over my stomach. Even if I deleted every fat picture of me, I could look at my body and just know where it has been. It tells a story.
I feel so afraid sometimes. Afraid that I won�t be able to prevent all that weight from coming back on me. I get scared of the future. Of knowing that I have to succeed at this for the rest of my life. There is no other �out� for me. I have to make this work. I look at pictures of the old me and I remember how it felt to be that person. How it felt physically -- How hard it was to move, to get out of a chair, to walk up a small hill or flight of stairs. How I would run out of breath within an instant of starting to move. And I remember how it felt emotionally -- How I was so self-conscious all the time, sure that the whole world was staring at me, how I didn�t want to do anything to call attention to myself. I felt the judgement of the world on me. I couldn�t take a bite of food without feeling guilty.
I feel it even now when I eat. I feel like people are watching me. Scrutinizing me. Half the world wants me to succeed and half the world wants to rejoice at my failure.
