So I've recently moved in with my boyfriend. He doesn't know the extent of my diet, just that I'm dieting. He did notice one day I fasted, but I was stupid and chose a day when he'd be home, so my fault. But he didn't do anything about it, just kept saying I should eat and kept accepting "I'm not hungry" as a legitimate response. Living here makes things more difficult in a few ways, but easier in many. The main difficulty is: obviously fasting is difficult, and I have to be careful about my workout routine around him, meaning some days I don't get to work out and I feel gross and saggy as a melted marshmallow. But I have good reason not to eat. As I don't have a job yet, all the food, all the everything is his. His quite willing to share it but I am a terribly guilty person, which is ONE thing about me he notices. So when I get a side salad at a restaurant, he'll assume it's because I don't want to waste money. I make him a large dinner but have a cup of water with half a bullion cube for myself? Just feeling guilty. This does occasionally backfire though, because ofttimes I crave ridiculous sweets (damn those seductive redvines) and he'll surprise me with them because he appreciates my monetary awareness. At least he doesn't generally notice I'll eat only one a day. But I hate lying to him. He is a fantastic, amazingly beautiful person who deserves a perfect girlfriend. I just can't decide if I'm better as more beautiful and happy then I've ever been in my life, or as completely honest and miserable.
Ergh, this is all much too complicated. But writing it down helps infinitely.
I hope reading it isn't a bore.
By the way, whoever it is that stumbles upon this and takes the time to read about my silly little life, thank you. You are lovely.
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