… of determined fat women can still be derailed in tumultuous situations.
I remain with my parents trying to get them packing to move back home permanently to the Dallas area. Dad’s vertebral fractures require extensive surgery, and he wishes to return home for treatment and recovery. Suddenly, what had been an exercise in familial, loving, care-taking has become a MOVE. I hate moving; my parents are procrastinators; they must be at the airport in 72 hours; food keeps pouring in from their community; I can’t find my skim milk; last night I ate M&M’s without thinking.
Clearly family issues and old trauma (I promised no emotional dumping syndrome on this blog) trump my eating plan at this early point in my road to better health.
Thank God my sister came to help and the other sis is working to receive them back home, or I might have regressed more than just by eating off plan a bit. (OK, so I did toss something across the living room after my coffee plummeted to the carpet.)
Reminds me that I need to reschedule a visit with my favorite psychiatrist.