aoife

I just inhaled a bunch of white-chocolate-dipped marshmallows on a stick. God, that was good. And I feel no fucking guilt.

Can I just stop and tell everyone how GREAT it feels to not feel bad about eating when I want to? To work out enough and to be comfortable enough with myself that I don't feel gross for eating candy when I want it, and to know that my body will tell me when I've eaten too much crap and I need to balance that out with some real food--well, it's a gigantic relief. Body issues seem to be part and parcel of the female experience, as well as sex issues, and for once to be perfectly comfortable with both of those things...well, let's just say it's nice.

Especially considering that my social life these days revolves so much around the gym--the boyfriend literally lives there, so all of his roommates and friends (who are my friends) are all fighters who constantly have to cut weight and all that. I'm the one gleefully eating chocolate chip pancakes at breakfast when the others are eating salad. OK, so I feel a little bad eating a bunch of crap like that when everyone is looking puppy-dog eyed at it, but still. My relationship with myself has never been better.

Now if only I'd been making progress on my writing this week, too...

Ah well.