I'm twenty years old, athlete for fourteen years, developing diabetic. Thanks genetics.
Since April 2013 I have-
Cleansed my ever-thirsty palette with 2L of green tea (home brewed in ice water, not factory made drink) and a minimum of 3L of plain water every single day..and only that (no sodas, fruit juices likes Welches, if it's not water- i don't drink it)
cut out all junk food- including '100 calorie/fat free' nonsense, &only eat natural pb
only eaten red meat once a week, no pork (besides last night I had two pieces of bacon in protest)
wipe off all salt on any food I eat, or skip adding it in recipes (but apparently the resulting vertigo and low sodium levels in my blood don't appreciate the diet change).
basically, my diet consists of water/green tea, fruit, veg, and chicken/some turkey/fish and consume maybe 1200 calories/day (all good, no empty cals)
If I don't make it, or watch it being made, I don't eat it. I have to control what goes in all meals. My rule- if I wouldn't eat an ingredient as is, I don't put it in my food.
plus, exercise and stretch at least 20 minutes a day.
the result? I've gained 17 lbs. February of 2013 I weighed in at 133 and hated it. I was a steady 125 through high school..and I had plenty of room for improvement.
I've developed anorexic tendencies due to my lack of progress and have reached my breaking point. Working in fashion means my size four is only attractive if my thighs are a 16" circumference (due to muscle, and now added fat, they're about 26"). Though I was raised to be a strong women, and preach about self confidence, I have none left. As I'm writing this, I'm boycotting conscious eating with a peanut butter and chocolate doughnut (everything pb&choc begs me to eat it). And milk. I normally rely on broccoli for my calcium, but go big or go home, right? My mom bought me a Breville juicer for my birthday two weeks ago and I've fallen in love with the easy-make meals juicing provides and it's many possibilities. I started right away, eating only juice the next few days. I got sick. Not just in the bathroom sick, but as in can't keep the juices, nor the ginger and green tea down. I pushed through, but ran out of supplies quickly. Sadly, I'm twenty, in between nanny jobs and can't afford to full-time juice. Good news, my mom just offered to take my to the grocery store tomorrow to get fruits and veggies to juice. She even offered to buy me a box of Starbucks brand hot chocolate, but I declined, stating that I would rather she spend that on more fruits (plus, I have cocoa powder to make real hot choc). The grocery offer is encouraging, but my spirits are still in short supply, ironically enough since I won "#3 most spirited" in high school and was a cheerleader for ten years (along with a few other sports). With all the designers' Spring 2014 campaigns surfacing, award shows and fashions weeks going on around the world, my computer, and ego, is being bombarded with skinny-mini models, bloggers, and celebrities. So, last night I ate two instant pancakes (the horror!), two pieces of bacon, and two pieces of bread. Today, I snacked on packaged food. Ick. And ate another two pieces of bread..and the doughnut mentioned earlier. I stand in front of my mirror for at least 20 minutes a day, purely analyzing my body and possible improvements. Cry, eat some pb, and cry some more (repeat min. of 4x per week). My profile picture, along with many other old, dare I say, 'selfies,' are often viewed over and over, reminiscent of the former body I once hated. I weigh myself randomly through the week (always in the morning, after using the facillites), and since I have to go to the doctors about once a week (constant blood work, sleep problems, fibromyalgia), they weigh me as well. Their scale is always about 7 lbs high than mine, my mom says the same thing, so it's not just my own paranoia. Within a week, my personal scale can read 143, then 152 the next day. I don't get it.
I understand confidence comes from within, and not a number on a scale or BMI percentage, but how can I get back to the body I so stupidly hated last year?
How can my constant sacrifice only lead to fat gain?