I. Hate. This.
Keep making some really poor choices. Like hiding half my dinner scrunched up in scrap paper IN MY SOCK DRAWER. Freaking out over two pieces of peanut butter on toast. Just because of a comment Tony made about the way I eat – tearing everything into tiny pieces. Because you know only FAT people would take a bite out of a whole piece of toast.
I am panicking over Tony cooking dinner tonight. Most women would be in heaven, loving not having to cook. Especially as it’s Saturday, and Saturday is pizza day in the Colley house. Made from scratch pizza that is. And I’m panicking over not being in control of what I am given. I don’t trust Tony. He’ll give me too much.
I have two gold stars on my hand today. So that’s something? I hate them. They scream failure at half of me. I want to tear them off and quit. Just give in. No harm in that, surely. I gave it a good go.
No! It is not failure to nourish my body and give it what it needs. And there is a hell of a lot harm in quitting.
This sucks. Today it is really hard to remember that:
Gloria is not me.