Thursday, March 23, 2017
For those of you who don't know, Book has been on a diet for about 3 months now. When we first started, he lost a ton of weight very quickly. But after doing some looking around and talking to a couple people in the know, I decided to just keep his food intake at that level.
Yesterday I weighed him, and checked his ribs. He's gained back a pound, but for the first time I have a hint of ribs.
HOW DID THIS HAPPEN?!
Strangely, Book gets more active the less he weighs. I don't mean, he's awake an hour more. I mean he's tears around the house like his tail is on fire half the day!
So I think, he's added muscle weight from running around more.
Now why am I telling you this ridiculous story about my cat?
Because it explains to *me* why *my* anorexia hasn't gone nuts even though I've been really stressed out for years now. I've finally realized that my health has nothing to do with numbers. It has everything to do with how I feel when I get out of bed in the morning. If moving around in my life makes me want to do it more, I am healthy. If what I'm doing makes my life harder or more painful, I am not healthy.
That works for me.
Now, someone remind me of this when my depression has convinced me this is bull shit.