The few days spent down the coast were wonderful. Stressful, but wonderful nonetheless.
We shared cake and drank coffee in the hotel cafe, as mothers and daughters should do. We bought local cheese, and went for meandering drives around the waterfront. For dinner, we went to an amazing Italian place, and drank wine both nights. We even went to the buffet breakfast. It was surreal, and so nice to get out of the house and spend time with mum.
Back home, I feel trapped. I have a certain fear to go out in my town, and I didn't have that fear hours down the coast. I had the freedom to go out while we were away, and that freedom's been lost again. I'm back to always being on edge, always looking over my shoulder, on the rare occasion I leave the house.
I'm not too worried about a potential weight gain. Even though we ate out for every meal, I kept my choices and portions sensible. Any gains can be taken care of in the next week. For today, we have a 1kg bag of Thompson seedless grapes in the fridge, which mum and I are planning to start devouring later. And I'm going to make up a big batch of tomato soup to reheat for a lazy dinner option. I'm not cooking much at all anymore, which kinda sucks, but I just don't have the energy.
I can see my body changing, slowly but surely. My arms are shrinking, the hollow in my back below my ribcage deepening. Mum looks at me and tells me I've lost more weight. And yet I'm still so scared of that damn number, and I know it'll never be enough. I still expect the scales to tell me I haven't lost anything.