Towel. Thrown In Or Out?

 [Tied Around Her 125lb Waist.]


I was making my lunch, and it was all running through my thoughts.

 Am I done with it all? No. My ribs are disappearing, My Hip Bones Are Gone, oh, and that gap? Pft. Riiight. It terrifies me. I don't want this. They said 110, they swore! 110. I'm raging. Fuming. I Haven't Wanted To SI In Since Summer Ended. But All I See Is My Thighs, Overlapping, Fighting Each other With Every step. He'll toss me aside. But I'm back to that tub-o-lard state. So He'll Need To Heave-Ho. I'm not counting days, I'm Counting Meals Remaining. 30 till Her Party. 21 till the winter event. 42 till Christmas. I can't do that. I'm debating counting calories again. I've strayed from the meal plans again, and 1300 isn't where I'm at daily. I need to know. Its why I'm gaining. I shouldn't be gaining. I can't be. I've debated skipping the meals. But that would be money down the drain. Money I Can't Waste. I've debated dropping out. But They Know Of My ED, so I can't. I just want it all back. I want the dizzy spells, the hunger pains, the lower numbers, the challenge. I want it to over take me like it did last year. I was high on lack of sleep and the adrenaline from working out 3 hours a day. From hitting 113 and knowing I did it to spite him. 

I can't take it. And I'm only a week in. What Hope is there for me?