All morning I've been trying to downplay my feelings. "I'm crabby, annoyed, irritated, and so on." I've been sick for weeks with various symptoms, and some of them have cleared up, but others linger, and I'm tired of not feeling well. I found myself in tears the other day, and knew that I needed to go to the doctor. My husband took me in on New Years Eve, and now I'm waiting on blood tests. I'm always so good about getting weighed. I always step on the scale backward, and have not seen my weight since before I went into treatment, but they handed me a synopsis of my visit, and there it was, in black and white. It is upsetting, although I can't pinpoint why. When I was sick, I always kept my weight in the double digits, and now I fall in the mid-range for my height. I liked not knowing or worrying myself with a number, and now that is ruined. I'm more than irritated. I'm angry right now. I'm angry that I'm letting a number get to me, I'm angry because I don't know what is wrong with me. I'm on edge, and near tears. I hate everything about my body. I hate that I don't physically feel well, I hate how much I weigh, and this is always what it comes down to. I feel as if I will never escape the betrayal of my body, and the disgust I feel toward it. I've been doing everything I'm suppossed to do. I eat, I do yoga, and I'm really trying to take care of my body, but it's never enough to stop the hate.