In the first photo I do look rather fab don’t I. Look at those slender legs. That gorgeous tan. The small waist. Of course, at the time I thought I was positively repulsive. But that was okay because everyone thought I looked great and I probably thought that was more important.
You can bet I had recorded every single thing I ate, right down to the fat content of the vitamin e supplements I took. You can bet that I knew how many calories I ate, how many calories I used, how many carbs I ingested, how much protein I ate and how much I weighed at many different times of the day. You can bet I laxette abused. You can bet I brought up my food a few times a week. You can bet I over exercised. You can bet I rewarded myself with less food when the scales said I had lost weight and you can bet that I punished myself with even less food when the scales said I put on weight. You can bet that my anxiety levels were through the roof 24/7. You can bet I was depressed. You can bet that nobody really knew what was going on inside me.
Just shows you can never judge a book by its cover…….
In the second photo I think I look fab. I have grey hair. I am 18kgs heavier. I am pale. I am getting lines on my face. Hell, I even have cellulite. Sure, I still have shit days but mostly my days are lovely. I still have an antagonistic relationship with my body now and then but I am okay with that too. Old habits die hard I suppose.
When I look at those two photos and think of what has transpired in the years in between I am quietly very pleased with it all.
I wonder what the next seven years shall bring.
I wonder if you will be reading my blog in seven years.
I’ll be writing still. There are times when I don’t feel like blogging but, for the majority of the time I love it.
I love the friends I have made via my blog.