This is like the national day of binge eating in America. For this day, it's perfectly acceptable -- cute, encouraged even -- to sit down and eat like a lunatic. Then everyone bitches about the extra 2 lbs they gain! Oh ha ha!

I've gained 45 lbs this year. I am almost certain that I am now a diabetic. I feel like shit. I am tired all the time. I can literally *feel* my ass expanding. My clothes are not fitting very well. I wear sweats and baggy t-shirts all the time.

Today's meal with my family was lovely -- people I love were around me and are healthy. The spread -- which I helped fix -- was amazing.

And yet, for a food addict, this is both our biggest fantasy and worst scenario. Today is a day when we can more easily binge under the cloak of anonymity, because there's a good chance those around us are indulging as well. It won't stop for me, though. I want another piece of pie, even though my stomach is full. I am thinking right now about how to get another sliver when everyone else goes to bed. Of course I am thinking about that.

I know that the second I go back home, I need to do some major flushing of my system. I need to cut my carbs completely. (Example: my blood sugar three hours after a bowl of Honey Bunches of Oats cereal? 138. My blood sugar three hours after two slices of bacon and two fried eggs? 97. I rest my case.) I need to purge my pantry and fridge of crap. I need to load up on fish and chicken and salads and eggs and cheese.

And yet. I keep thinking about having "one last" Taco Bell run. (Taco Bell? More like Toxic Hell.) It's just that my "one last" usually turns into "my last week" which can easily segue into complete apathy on my part.

Sometimes I eat and pretend like it's not doing anything to me. Like I can continue to binge and not exercise, and miraculously not gain weight. The last period of time where I convinced myself of this, I ate my way up to 281 lbs.

And maybe a lot of my wanting to binge is triggered by being back home with my family. They still treat me like an infant and eyeball me if they think I've had enough of something. I can't get up and have another drink, or have my slice of pie before everyone else. That anger and humiliation and loss of power fuels me, of course, to binge out the wazoo.

(Yes, I'm in therapy.)

I KNOW that once I get on the straight and narrow, which is what it takes for me, I can stay on it. I can become just as obsessive and focused on losing weight and totally avoiding certain foods as I am about eating an entire tray of cookies. I just have to make it that first couple of weeks. It literally feels what I imagine drying out in rehab must feel like.

Did this day trigger anyone else?