It’s been a hellish week.

It was going splendidly until Saturday, my sister’s party. I didn’t eat that much. About six small pieces of sushi, a chocolate covered strawberry and I nibbled the edge off my sister’s cupcake.

I felt horrendously fat all night, despite everyone telling me I looked too thin.

The next day me and my boyfriend went to the Swan Valley to meet a breeder and her dogs. They were all gorgeous! We are after a boy doberman, although she introduced us to all of her dogs, one of which was this European line tan doberman called Eve. She was bigger than all of the male dogs and the most powerful animal of her size I’d ever seen. She bent a iron bar with her teeth. An iron bar! But when she came out of her enclosure I just put my arms around her neck and she went all docile and loveable and I was in love, truly. I wish I could have her, really. But I don’t have the living situation to give her the kind of care and attention she deserves. She was beautiful. And she apparently started pushing her dad around as a three-month-old-puppy. I like that kind of sass!

But N decided lunch in the valley would be a nice idea so we stopped. I planned on having (virtually) the only thing on the menu that wasn’t full of carbs and diary which was a Cajun chicken salad. But they brought out a caesar instead which was grotesquely bathed in sauce, a million croutons, dusted with bacon and sprinkled with cheese. I felt bad about being ‘that’ customer, so I ate it, trying to avoid all of the above mentioned.

But I still panicked. That, coupled with the anxiety about the house, made everything go down hill from there. Yesterday was the first day I had eaten right since that Sunday, and I am so incredibly ashamed.

But yesterday, a week onwards, we went to the dog show to see some one dogs and sign up for our puppy. Add to that I’ve been consistently taking medication again and I’m feeling much better. Now I just have to tackle the uphill battle of moving out of my apartment.