Francesca is my official OA sponsor. She is asking me for things I am unwilling to do: report my food; eat protein/vegetables/starch instead of my beloved cupcake lunch, and above all – be honest. Yeah right, Fancy Lady.
I spent two whole days (which actually is miraculous) of following an actual plan, when some a$$hole brought home an enormous danish with two bites in it and left it on the counter. I chucked it in the trash, but at 1 a.m. I heard a strange plea for rescue and I ran to that garbage and fished it out. And well, the rest is the rest.
I have been lying to Francesca ever since. I can’t do it. I can’t follow her instructions. I know I am powerless over food and my life has become unmanageable, but it is my last drug. She is a Fancy Lady anyway. Anyone younger and more successful than I; anyone with raven hair is unqualified to tell me what to do. OH, yeah.
I’m doing what I’ve always done: omitting facts; choosing what I want to consider abstinence, eating gobs of sugar – not to mention having enormous nightsnacks. On the plus side, I haven’t binged or purged in a week, so….
But I don’t know her. And she scares me. I googled her and she is all Movie Starrish and Fabulous and I hate her.
I don’t know where to start. What can I do and HONESTLY stick to? Maybe I could tell her, “Look, Fancy Lady, I simply cannot do as you suggest, so for today I commit to my bottom line of abstinence: no b/p. I can also commit a suitable breakfast, ok? Ok, Fancy, successful, gorgeous Lady??”
Yeah, I’m gonna do that right now. Good luck with that, I say to myself. Let’s see what she has to say about that. Fancy Lady.