deep thoughts on a night of drinking

when I first began my "recovery" (and I use this term loosely as I was so reluctant) from anorexia as a senior in high school, I followed a terribly strict meal plan, complete with measurements and exact portions (good God, who has the time to measure vegetables!?). I ate the same three meals and two snacks day in and day out. While I was entrenched in my eating disorder, I became a hermit of sorts, locking myself up in the upstairs room, reading pro-ana websites (freedom of speech my ass -- those websites are dangerous and should be illegal) and counting calories. As part of my recovery, I was encouraged to go out with friends, just like I used to before my illness completely took over my life.

so one day, I did.

I was terrified. I promised myself I wouldn't drink -- calories! I packed my dinner (chicken, vegetables, brown rice), even though we were headed to a fair where there would surely be delicious (albeit fatty) options.

my friends (to be honest, at that point I had drifted too far apart from everyone to really consider them close friends) and I rented a "party bus" (keep in mind I grew up in Costa Rica, so this scenario is entirely plausible -- I was also of legal age there) and the drinking started right away.

it is kind of impossible to resist a drink when you've got 20 rowdy teenagers urging you on (peer pressure at its finest, no?), especially when you are too ashamed to admit to the real reason you aren't drinking: you're freaking terrified to get fat. Liquid calories! Empty calories!

so I did what I thought I "had" to do, my "only choice."

I flushed my dinner down the toilet. That way, I could make up for any (or most) calories I consumed when drinking (never mind the fact that drinking on an empty stomach is never a good idea).

when I got home, my dad asked me, "Did you eat dinner?" and I said, completely straight-faced, "Yeah, obviously."

an eating disorder is an expert liar.

I think back to this day and I cringe a little.

so what was that about? The point of this is not to give anyone any ideas (of course not), or to let everyone know what a sad life I lived back then. Nope. The point of this is to remind myself of how lucky and glad I am that I am finally able to let go, have a drink or two or three, and maybe even order a pizza on the side -- you know those drunk munchies are vicious.

I had a fabulous time last night with my boyfriend and his friends here in Connecticut. So what if I feel like crap this morning? I'll only be 21 once (reincarnation aside, obviously).

how things have changed.