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Food
19 March 2004 @ 8:16 a.m.
I burned the waffles this morning. My last two waffles pulled from the toaster oven hard as rock and black on top. They were thrown on the counter as I sank to the floor in tears. Sitting there curled up in a ball against the cabinets wearing nothing but a robe sobbing.
My fight with food continues. This past week has been horrendous when it comes to my eating habits. The cold allowed me to eat soup that I had in the cupboards, but one can of soup split between two meals is not even close to enough to eat for a day. The hatred of my size coupled with my lack of money creates this horrible view surrounding food.
I�ve been starving myself this week. I doubt I�ve consumed more than 600 calories each day. And there�s little I am able to do to stop it. Last night I gathered up the nerve to cook something with the hamburger I have. Got out the ingredients to make a casserole, but it called for milk. I realized my milk expired two days earlier and had no money to buy more. Cans were thrown around the kitchen the spoiled milk thrown out and I didn�t eat. The last dinner I had that was even remotely balanced was on Tuesday when I had a dinner plate-sized salad.
This morning was no different. I decided to heat up the last of my frozen waffles only to ruin them. It�s almost as though food has become my enemy. When I want it, I can�t have it. When I have it, there�s nothing I want less. I�ve become overly cranky and short with people when it comes to anything dealing with food or money, as I see them as completely related.
I hate that I am unable to control these feelings. I hate that food brings me to tears. I hate the empty feeling in my stomach when I sit through morning classes. But the thing I hate most is when food brings out the anxiety that keeps me inside, sobbing on the kitchen floor for hours at a time.
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