I have a thyroid check on Tuesday. I'm not worried about the needle, I'm worried about the scale. I spent YEARS to find a doctor that I really like and I'm not willing to lose her. That said, going to the doctor's office where I was diagnosed with anorexia makes the scales really feel like a competition. I should just stand backwards on the scale so I don't see the numbers but I don't know that I have the strength to do that. Even if I don't look, the nurse is not even remotely secretive about it and I always see her writing the numbers and the +/- lbs down on my chart for my doctor.
Though I want to hear that I am still at a healthy weight, there is a part of me terrified to hear that exact thing. Why do unhealthy numbers appeal to me so? I don't think they are beautiful but they are so compelling. I don't like the emaciated look and yet the thrill of the chase makes me want it. I want to be perfect and I want to be the "perfect anorexic" which I never was. I consumed way too few calories to be healthy and yet I would read of others consuming less and I would wonder what was wrong with me that I was getting 100 more calories/day than that girl. Why couldn't I be perfect at depriving myself?
I may be rambling now. I am emotionally worn today and this post is evidence of that. I am conflicted greatly between the desire to be healthy and enjoy my life and the desire to be disciplined and perfect and starving. The battle is raging in me today. This exact moment, there are three angelic faces upstairs who need a mamma and an amazing man who needs a wife and that is my sole motivation for even trying to fight this battle right now. This exact second, they are my only reason to not give in to the illusion of comfort that not eating brings.