The other night, I tried to have some pasta for dinner. Then I went to play pool with my boyfriend and his friend. Some people I didn't know were there and they started watching me (my boyfriend said it was because I was the only girl there and those sorts of people don't get to talk to girls very often). Well, I started sucking at pool because I was nervous that they were watching me. So people started watching more. My hands were shaking and my mind was racing. I became convinced that they knew I had eaten the pasta for dinner and that my stomach was sticking out and soon I was in a full blown panic attack. I was shaking all over.
My boyfriend said he was about 2 seconds from taking me to the ER.
This stuff is serious guys. It takes over your life. I guess that's why we want to recover. Yes, it gets worse before it gets better. Yes, it sucks. Yes, it's hard. Yes, its not always butterflies and puppies and unicorns and rainbows. Here's something positive, I saw two rainbows the other day. YAY! A reminder that life is beautiful!
Random pic of a farting unicorn!
Ok, so I digress. Where was I. Oh yeah, recovery sucks. End of story.
Ooh, so here's something positive. I found a pic of what my hair used to look like. Short and thin and sad. And a pic of what it looks like now that I'm trying to be healthier. Reasons to recover! You actually have hair!
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