I was sitting and eating celery at the table. My mom was having soup and tortilla chips. I commented that I was jealous that she could just eat all that without worrying about the calories (she knows I've been having some problems with my weight and losing weight unhealthily). She told me that eventually I'll be able to too. I said I doubted it. She said "what, are you planning on dieting even when you're 30?" I replied "yeah". She told me that I'd "be obessesed with 10 other things before I was 30". I got annoyed and told her that she underestimated my food problems. She told me that no, she didn't. I told her that I really felt that she did. Her reply? "You have to understanding that hearing this is like being my age having been in love 10 times and hearing your teenage daughter say that you underestimate her love and how she'll always be in love"
I snapped. I got up, shoved my celery towards her and screamed that she didn't understand. "You know how many calories I've had today?! 415! Yesterday? 15!" then I threw my pills on the floor and told her that I hadn't taken them in months.
Yeah, we ended up "talking" about all this. She asked me what I want her to do... get me help? Get me an ED therapist? Make me eat?
Then she said something about me only having 15 calories yesterday. I'd composed myself and said "no, 15 HUNDRED". She became a ton more relieved.
IDK. I was honest with her about some stuff...
but I just feel like a failure. Like I can't stop now. I'm too fucking fat to stop. I'm too fucking fat to come clean. I'm too fucking fat to deserve recovery.
I realize this all makes me sound like a spoiled whiny brat bitch of a daughter. I don't even care right now. This is going to fuck up my life.
Dammit.