It's what he said that kills me in this...

I don't have the time for a long post (though I am, as you know, quite fond of them).

I'm cooking bacon for my family. Fucking bacon. For BLTs. Oh, yes. They're his favorite. And the little one (five years old) doesn't mind them).

But this isn't the point of my finally coming back to Blogger... No. When I'm drinking to forget EVERYTHING... That's when I tend to come here. To seek out my oldest and truest friends. To say what I need to say and know that it will strike at least ONE chord... Somewhere in the universe.

So. I've told him before... about everything. He says he understands that I was once in a very dark place regarding myself, my body image, my EVERYTHING. And yet...

I had his baby six months ago. I'm in recovery from something that could have killed me. I struggle HOURLY with thoughts of returning to that lifestyle, just so that I COULD BE THIN. I can't eat in the mornings because I dare not disturb the beauty that is HUNGRY. EMPTY. PURE.

Getting back to the point that was so eloquently (albeit briefly) delineated in the title of this post. He told me yesterday, while we were lounging at the pool with our two daughters, that he has been "frustrated" over the past "few months" that I'm not yet in shape... that I'm not the same size as I was when I met him... That he can't WAIT until I am back to the way I was before the baby... ... ... ...

I didn't know how to respond. Honestly, I think I look pretty OKAY for having two kids and just having had my last one six months ago.

Apparently, every time that he said I looked good, he said, he did so in order to keep me from feeling bad about myself.

...

If that isn't a trigger to go down the wrong road, I don't know WTF is.

...

I'm going to stop now so that I can make dinner for everyone. And pretend to eat. And this is why I fucking drink so goddamn much.

I love you all. I miss you so much.