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Fear and Loathing in the Bathroom

I’m afraid of my bathroom. Not the room itself, you understand, but the evil creature that resides there, usually hidden carefully under a pair of my sweats. The scales. These are English scales, understand, marked in stones rather than pounds. (For all of you back home, a stone is fourteen pounds.) Eight stone or so, when I first got here, wasn’t bad. It had a quite flattering ring, actually, when you’re used to triple digits. Nine stone wasn’t too bad, and it’s difficult for anyone to maintain weight with all of these gorgeous treacle puddings with hot custard sauce around. But now it’s ten stone, and that is very scary. Evil scales. Ok, to be completely honest here, I stopped weighing myself when it got to be more than ten stone. I’m not sure how much over, since I leaped off the scales when I saw how high it was trying to swing, like a cat jumping off a hot stovetop.

So, I’m not just afraid of the bathroom. I’m also terrified of the bedroom, where I might have to actually be naked in front of another human being, someone that I love, who I cannot immediately rip the eyes from for having looked at me. Anywhere with mirrors or reflective plate glass is bad. Very bad. My closet is a danger zone, as well, as my wearable wardrobe shrinks with every passing day.

Despite the light tone, I’m not taking this well. This is therapy, this putting into words. Say the dreaded words, and take away their power. Nope, didn’t work. I tried to tell Phil how I felt, and he somehow translated it as a slur on himself, as though I was saying that it was his fault. I don’t know what to do.

I’ve exercised my ass off (unfortunately not literally). Despite the gorgeous desserts, we actually have a very healthy diet, mainly due to Phil’s egg allergy. I have zero energy, and it’s tough making it through the day. Pretty shitty is the way I feel. Pretty shitty.

Ok, I vented. I’m going to go downstairs now and start my new diet. It’s the soon-to-be-famous All Alcohol Diet, where you don’t actually lose any weight, but you’re so pissed that you don’t care.

Cheers.

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