I worked hard in PT on Monday, got home at 3:00, tired, weak, and very hungry as I hadn't eaten since Sunday morning. I was crabby and hubby asked what was wrong, and I said, "My knee hurts, and I'm hungry!" Soon he brought me in a bologna sandwich with miracle whip, cheese, lettuce, and crunched up potato chips. Along with a big cup full of grapes. It was delicious but I felt very bloated. We went on a several hour long, circling around road trip to pick up things for the business. By 7 I was already noticing my stomach growling and we went through the drive through..... not healthy, but filling! We got home around 11 pm, I was hungry again of course, normally I would just go to bed and try to ignore it, but I had a wonderful little snack of apples and cheese, and felt satisfied til morning!
I woke up and had some milk, and had small meals for lunch and dinner. I was proud of eating pretty frequently. I had a small snack a few hours ago, and I am starting to feel I could use something, but trying to just go to sleep. But if I wake up, I will not hesitate to have something.
I am telling myself healing must require many calories, and that is why I am hungry. I crave GOOD food....big salads with cheese and veggies and ham and avocado.......milk.....cheese.....oranges......lean beef......juice. I am not craving Chips Ahoy. I give myself permission to eat and heal, no matter how uncomfortable it is, it is awkward to eat until I'm full....it's weird.

I'm going to try to eat every time I feel uncomfortably hungry, seems like such a stupid simple concept, but if I were not recovering from surgery, I would fail at that attempt most likely the first day. Every time, I need to get it through my thick skull....my bones were opened up! They have to mend! PT is hard work! I need the calories!

Being around my husband so much helps. He will see to it that I eat.

It seems like I will struggle with eating several times a year. Because of this, I have to keep clothing in many different sizes. In college I struggled horribly with it. I loved to starve, I loved the "clean", "pure", and "in control" thoughts I had. I didn't look terribly skinny, just thin, but I loved to lay on the bed after starving a few days, and feel the sharpness of my hip bones and ribs, my stomach sunk in. I was proud of my strength and self denial. I couldn't wait to be skinny enough to be perfect. I wondered when I would be perfect. Tormented by hunger pangs, drinking water to ease them, but yet I wanted to feel them.

I never talk about this. My husband realizes when I start restricting, or taking food but not eating it, and he is aware and protective.