Saturday morning I woke up and weighed myself. It was the worst moment of my life, seeing that I weighed as much as an elephant – I know, I am exaggerating.
I hit rock bottom and an all-time weight high. I couldn’t make myself get out of bed the rest of the day. I didn’t eat for almost 24 hours. I thought to myself that if I could stay depressed, I would drop the weight quicker. There was even a fleeting moment of considering liposuction, but the thought of risking unsightly uneven skin was too much to bear.
By Sunday I felt better. In my 24 hours of depression I had lost 1kg. Yes, that 1kg might just be water and not last, but 1kg is better than nothing.
I ate a cheese sandwich for breakfast and left the house to buy food.
By the afternoon I was so hungry and fed-up with drinking water. I craved real food – and lots of it – with potatoes and sauce. I gave in and let myself have a side plate filled with food.
Later that night I craved anything and everything and was literally starving. Instead of giving in, I ate crackers and cream cheese.