I went shopping yesterday.
Yay!
I found a wonderful pencil skirt, got my size and freaked out!!! It did not fit! I got bigger! I rushed out of the store, got my coffee and thought of what has just happened.
Every time I had weighted myself I saw the number going up the scale. I hated it, I cursed – but I knew that it’s the recovery – I suppose to gain some weight. On the contrary my clothes had always fit. ALWAYS. Even when I went up 10 pounds. Yesterday I had faced the new number of my size. Damn. Yet again it became all about the numbers which I had been trying to avoid in my healing. I had stopped counting calories. It’s only a week that I had ditched the scales, and today it was the size – and I despised it yet again. Numbers are an interesting thing in eating disorder land. Numbers end up taking on a life of their own here. Between numbers on the scale, numbers of calories, and numbers on jeans, it’s an insane kind of bondage to digits that fuel an eating disorder.
Haven’t we all been there in some way, shape, or form where the numbers drive our happiness, peace or sense of well-being?
I don’t want to get caught up in the numbers game but somehow once those numbers are in my head they just don’t leave. It’s such a double bind because on one hand the numbers help me feel in control; for example  knowing what the scale reads or exactly how many calories I’m putting in my mouth or what size jeans still fit, but in the end the numbers end up controlling me. It’s almost like the numbers come alive and have power over me and then I become enslaved to them.
How could I ever be free from numbers? Is it even possible? Are you free? Share, please.
And join me for some coffee.