Day 11

Intake:
-- 1/4 c. steel-cut oats (90)
-- Almond milk (25)
-- 1/2 c. raspberries (40)
-- 4 rice cakes (112)
-- 2 eggs (180)
-- Mustard (5)
-- Courgette "spaghetti" (google says 42, not 125... so we'll go with that)
-- 2 leaves Pak-Choi (4)
-- Teriyaki sauce (50)
-- Sunbites (134)
-- Starbucks coffee (x)
Total: 682

I feel... surprisingly full. Ended up buying the zucchini/courgette noodles and they were amazingly good, sauteed with the greens in some sauce. Definitely going to get those again seeing as it wasn't the traumatic experience I expected. I may or may not eat more. I do feel rather stuffed on a surprisingly small amount of calories, though, so I may take advantage of that. If I get hungry later I'll eat some dairy-free orange chocolate that I bought on my travels.

Also, I bought konjac noodles. You know, the ones with "0 calories" (more like 20 per serving, but whatever). They have a kind of odd chewy texture, but I feel like when you're starving, these kinds of weird-ass foods don't register as weird anymore. Potential lunch tomorrow? I'm just going to cover them in teriyaki sauce and hope for the best.

Earlier when I was in the kitchen cooking dinner my mother asked if I had lost weight. My response? "Uh... no. Maybe? Have I? I don't think so... maybe?" I am so poorly equipped for these kinds of questions. She said I looked like I'd lost weight from "around my middle". I don't know if that means my waist, or hips, or what, but it was strangely gratifying even if I can't see it myself. 

Sometimes I think my self-judgement is very poor. Lina, also, pointed out that my weight loss was noticeable everywhere, including my face. I don't see it. Or at least, I didn't, until I walked down to the centre to get a coffee - (that's why I'm full) - and caught sight of myself in the window pane reflection of a shop front. 

My legs looked... longer. And distinctly thinner around the top. My face, when I snuck a glimpse while walking past, happened to catch the light in a way that made me look (dare I say it) gaunt.  

This is all very odd. While 160 pounds is nowhere near what I or the rest of society would consider skinny, it was noticeable to me - admittedly, only for a split-second, but a long split-second - that I had lost weight. 

I don't know what to make of it, because in my head, anything above 150 at my height is huge. But today 160 felt okay. It felt manageable. It felt "slim". I felt lighter in my step, and it was fucking weird. 

All this leads me to believe that I would probably, despite previous discussion on this blog, actually be satisfied with weighing 145 pounds by the end of summer. 145 when I was 18 felt hideous; 145 at almost-22-and-getting-older-by-the-day feels... really not so bad. More than "not so bad", it actually sounds pretty damn good. And if I can feel halfway decent at a body mass index of 23.5, a BMI 21.5 frame is nothing to complain about. 

It's a pity I have to use controversial and "unhealthy" methods to get there, but my projected maintenance plan is so goddamn healthy that in my mind, this sort of cancels it out. (Sort-of being the operative term: I'm aware that starving yourself intentionally is never the best choice, and I absolutely do not promote restriction as a solution. However as someone who's been on the eating disorder spectrum for almost eight years, restricting's not a choice anymore, but rather a consequential and, for the most part, unavoidable dilemma - until I get to a place at which I finally feel more sane than in-sane. Or, at least, that's how it feels sometimes).