I had a very tough realization this weekend- I cannot have cookies in the apartment. We purchased some at Trader Joe's, with the sincere intention of eating a serving size at a time. I really thought I could do that.

I thought wrong.

I literally upwards of 30- THIRTY - of them. The worst part is that they weren't even that good. They were hard and crispy and just not that tasty. I think that's part of why I ate so many- I kept thinking that the next one would taste like what I was dreaming of.

Ugh. Food! How I loathe and love it and the relationship is still rocky. I want to just magically wake up tomorrow with a perfect relationship with food... instead, it is to me like the abusive boyfriend I just can't seem to break up with. I was watching some Law and Order this weekend, and one episode had a woman who was just beat half to death by her boyfriend, and she wouldn't leave him because he would apologize and tell her he loved her so much and would never hit her again, he would die without her, and she was the most beautiful woman in the world. So she'd stay. Then he'd do it again. The sick cycle never broke. Typically in those situations the woman ends up dead.

That's my reality- if I can't abandon this food addiction, unable to deny the cajoling and woos, then I'll kill myself. The food will clog my arteries, spike my blood sugar, skyrocket my blood pressure, wear out my joints, and eventually choke the life from me. I know this is the truth. Usually I'm strong, but yesterday I just gave in. The worst part is that I really wasn't even emotionally eating. It was pure lust for sugary cookies. There was no pretense that the food was going to replace an empty feeling. Rather, it was 100% lust to pleasure my taste buds. So sad.

It gets even worse, however... when it hit me that 1,500 calories were about to be absorbed by my body I threw up. I literally binged and purged. In the back of my mind the whole time I knew I would. The irony, if that is allowed in these situations, is that my leg muscles were sore the entire time from a fairly intense workout Saturday (lunges KILL me still). There I was, aching muscles and all, tears streaming down my face from the forced regurgitation, asking why I do this to myself. How pathetic- a 26-year-old woman sobbing into the toilet because she's desperate to no longer weigh 350 pounds, yet she can't say no to some inanimate cookies. And to think that horrid display of humanity is me.

To think that Jesus saw me, in that moment, and spread His arms to receive the nails...

I really can't explain why I did it. Frequently, as of late, I have been able to deny the urges, but yesterday I just didn't. I want to blame it on being sick- I have a death cold right now- but I don't honestly feel that affected my will power. I just completely caved.

I can't do much else beyond dragging myself back off the ground, allowing Christ to be the one to lift my head, and prayerfully seek to keep letting Him be the one to be my strength. We call can clearly see my own strength doesn't get me much further than a porcelain tomb.

PS I believe I was 350.6 (?... the number after the decimal is the one I can't remember) this morning, but I had wet hair. I was 349.2 yesterday, but every time I hit 349-point-anything the scale magically says 354 or so the next day, so I'm not getting my hopes up too high. We'll see where I am by the end of the week.

PPS I have my first personal training session next Monday at 7; I hope to learn a lot. On the downside, I can't breathe without cringing in pain, so working out is pretty much... out... tonight. We plan to try and do some more low-key stuff on the Wii, and I'll try doing some strength training by doing lunges, squats, and some various work with my handy-dandy 5 lb weights.