Date: Jan. 28, 2003
Time: 7:44 PM
My current mood is:
I told him
Blaaaaaah I just woke up from a nap. I want to go back to sleep but I have too much shit to do: food shopping, laundry, eat dinner, clean turtle tank, clean fish tank. I'm tired cause I went to bed late, I stayed up telling Jon about....my eating disorder! Eeeek! After much mulling over, I decided it was for the best that I tell him, it would be more beneficial to my own health. I told him about how I can't handle him mentioning weight/hunger/food around me, I hope he doesn't get all paranoid now. He was so good about it though, I was afraid of telling him but he was so supportive and nice :) He said next time he sees me he's going to give me an extra long hug, and that I'm a very strong person (where'd he get that??). He kept asking what the disorder is called...which made me uncomfortable, I didn't want to tell him about the bulimia. I just said I had an eating disorder, but then I said I've been diagnosed with anorexia, which is true. I guess I don't want to tell him about the puking is cause A) It's gross. Not that there's anything sexy about anorexia, but there's definitly not anything sexy about bulimia. B) Part of me still wants to keep it secret, the "just in case". Just incase I start again...so he won't know... I know that's a bad way to think, but bulimia was always my secret door. Look I'm eating normal, see? As I then sauntered into the bathroom to rid myself, no one the wiser. With bulimia you can look normal, infact you have a hearty appetite it seems, so everything is ok with the world. Whatever, this shouldn't matter anymore. He's just being really sweet about it. Now he's saying he's afraid I hate him. I'm so tired I want to go back to sleep, or at least have a peanut butter and jelly sandwhich.
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