A spacey afternoon

I'm probably not thinking very well at this moment because I've [kind of] eaten lunch, but not really. I ate a protein bar and a large glass of vegetable juice, but no insulin, so I'm spacey, not low blood sugar spacey, just low calorie spacey; there's a difference.

When I'm anxious, or my life is just completely stressful, I have a lot of trouble eating. For a long time, this wasn't a problem. My hormonal imbalance was so crazy that my body didn't reflect how I was treating it. But now that everything is in right, working order, my eating troubles are becoming more obvious (no not to you, but they are to me). And I have to admit, that's not always something that concerns me. I like being thin. As a kid, I was indoctrinated into the "looks is everything" camp, and this metronome still clicks inside of me at a steady beat: "Be thin. Be beautiful. Be thin. Be beautiful [and so on and so on]."

There is no counter narrative here. This is really what I believe. Writing about it reveals some sort of ambivalence, sure, but not enough to act differently. This isn't something that I consciously choose like, "I'm not going to eat lunch today because I want to stay my lovely thin self." No; I think, "I'm not hungry. Bleh. But I have to take care of myself, so I'm going to eat what I'm able to eat, something that doesn't make me feel sick." The latter is my real adult self. The latter doesn't always eat burritos because she wants to. Sometimes she eats them because she makes herself.