I can.




Member tweety?
And he'd be all like..."I tawt I taw a putty tat...I DIIIIIIID. I DIIIIIIID." 

Well.
I DIIIIID. I DIIIIID.
Has been on my heart for a while.
And it needs to be here, to get out of me.

Picture me.
In the dermatologists office.
Working on getting back on Stelera.
Praying to the insurance Gods that they'll approve it.

When out of the blue, Dr. H says,"How much do you weigh?"
Stopping for a moment, the room stood still. 
As air left the room, I hesitated.
"230 or 240? I'm not sure," I said.

In disbelief.
I sat in his office morbidly obese.
Again.
You ugly fat girl.
 He slowly turned around in his chair.
"There is no way."
"I don't really know," I said.
Great, I thought, I must be over 250.

















"There is no way you're even 200 pounds, sweetie."
"Really?"
"Really. Body dysmorphia?"
"Yes."
"I'll put 200, but I don't really think that's right."

He never made me step on scale.
And I'm proud that this May will be 2 years since I have.
Because.
It'll also be 6 months without a consistent pattern to my bulimia. It would have been a perfect 6 months, but.

I have beautiful amazing friends who have started getting their already svelt bodies ready for bikini season, and that has fu$%ed with my head, BIG TIME.

Moving on. This post is actually about my gym.
And my trainer.
He and I have spent the last year trying to find balance.
With my bulimia, my training, and my love of my self.

It hasn't always been easy.
There were times he desperately wanted to weigh me in.
Help me track my progress.
There were workouts where I'd just purged.
Or hadn't eat in...hours...days...weeks.

But.
We hustled through them.
And it was this beautiful Sunday morning.
That we got to talking.
About what I weigh now.

And the point he was trying to make.
That I love more than anything was that he was proud of me.


















"You have come in here with energy, ready to work.  You've eaten, I can tell."

I smiled through my side lunges.
"And better yet, you are always honest with me.  If it's been a bad week, it's been a bad week."
And I love that.

I chuckled to myself as I goblet squatted.
I DIIID.  I DIIID.
Today, I loved myself enough to eat, keep it down, and drive to the gym.

To work out enough but not too much.

I thought I saw your inner light shining.
I DIIIID, I DIIIID.


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