I fucking failed.

The restaurant was FULL of thinspiration - not the patrons so much, but the waitresses.

Of course, they would have to be, to drum up the type of classy, good-looking upper-crust-type customers who are known to frequent that place.

Our waitress was gorgeous. Almost everything I want to be. Bad attitude, but totally hot bod.

I didn't need her to help me stick to a dinner salad - I would've ordered that from an obese waitress.

But I'm mad at myself for munching along with DH on the goat cheese appetizer (I only had a few bites - I had liquid-fasted all day in preparation for my dinner, but the moment my fucking 9oz of wine showed up, and I started sipping on it, and the convo with DH was good, I found myself munching) - I became mindful of it - cognizant - taking my bites, slow and calculated, ensuring DH wouldn't pick up on anything and allowing him to devour more of it, so there'd be less for me.

Then my dinner salad showed up - full of greens, littered with pecans, a smattering of goat cheese, quinoa, and some grilled chicken slices. I don't think I could ever go full-tilt on ana - at least with my restrictions, I am allowed a little indulgence to keep my metabolism chugging and satisfy my taste buds.

My stomach fills up fast, so I can't eat much when I do - but last night, fucking wine, I just kept eating.

I was BEYOND full. Like, fat, bloated, gross-full.

Why the FUCK did I do that?

I came home and took my CLA and whatever else I could find in my cupboard (too late after the fact, but whatever damage control I could find, I was doing it). Took my laxatives.

Woke up still feeling gross, like I was a fucking ball of grease.

So much disgust.

To fucking top it off, I went to my parent's place to pick up DD (she overnighted), and my mom kept throwing food at me. Knowing my history with them and my old eating habits, I indulged her - felt like it was going to spiral out of control! Snacking here, a few more there - been restricting lots, so ONE day won't kill me.

Now I feel like a goddamn whale. Been pumping CLA and ginger and water and stool softener, my laxative tea's ready to rock in a bit. So here I sit, sipping my Benefiber-infused water, scrolling through thinspo online, cursing myself for my fuck ups, but still trying to hold myself together. Tomorrow is a new day.

Tomorrow is all about 300 cal.

Tomorrow, no one will be home. I can try the elliptical again. Keep moving. Drink more. Eat less.

No dickin' around. This is bullshit, y'know?