what you feel is what you are and what you are is beautiful

There's something a little off about this bout of weightloss. I don't know if it's a fear of going over the edge again or whether it's because I am genuinely happy at the moment; either way, my heart isn't exactly in it. I know that if I weigh myself tomorrow and I am 117, I wouldn't be as heart broken as I should be. Maybe this is just what I felt like in the beginning last time - this is normal. Maybe I was just expecting to jump straight into that all-consuming and quite frightening obsession that I last remember. As bad as this sounds, I really miss that feeling. I miss waking up and weighing myself to the decimal, calculating my BMI and then measuring my thigh, waist, hips and bust, noting the changes in a graph or forcing myself back to sleep until I would wake up thinner and smaller. It was freeing and suffocating and secure and scary all at the same time. It was a paradox and it was mine.