Over the past two years I’ve made no secret about how anxiety has affected my weight. There was a part of me that, no matter how much I told myself I was wrong, was secretly please I’d lost weight. That’s the ultimate goal, right? To look tall and skinny, to look like a size 2 when that’s not what you should be?
Talking specifically about me. I’m fairly tall and the ‘right weight for my size’ is not looking like a size 2. These posts are typically all about me. You’re 100% a-okay fine and dandy as you are. Unless you want to change that. I’m gonna stop before I dig myself into a hole.
Something about not being in a high stress environment (bloody A levels) or starting a brand new job (the summer after A levels) or moving into a flat with strangers (uni halls) has had a positive affect on what I’m eating. It’s almost as though, when I’m living with my best friends and am actually confident in what I’m doing, I eat like I should? Weird.
Breakfast most days. Lunch everyday – even if it’s at 4pm after work. Some kind of evening meal. Granted, sometimes these aren’t the most healthy. I’m still a student after all. But the ill feeling that has bugged me for nearly 4 years… it’s a one off, not a constant anymore.
Probably since October or November, I’ve gained back the weight I lost over a six week period – not consciously, but I think that’s a testament to how much things are right now.
Things are good. Things are okay. Food is still my 2nd greatest joy in life.