Battle of the Breasts
I met the man of my dreams this summer, and since moving in with him a few months ago, I've had to be way more careful about what/how/when I eat (not to mention when I visit this journal). Living with a lover makes being a closet faster/restrictor really difficult. Despite my brutal honesty about my issues in this journal, not many people in my real life know that I have an eating disorder. I'd be embarrassed if most people knew. So, naturally, my man isn't aware of my past struggles with self-esteem and it's relation to food for me. He does, however, get suspicious of me if he discovers I haven't been eating. What's worse is, he dislikes it when I lose weight. He prefers me to remain curvy and full-figured, whereas I'm still striving for that impossible goal of perfect stick-thinness.
I'm completely torn. Of course I want to appear attractive for my man, but the large-breasted, voluptuous version of me isn't the me that I'm comfortable being. I feel far more attractive when I can see my own bone structure beneath my skin, and if that means losing the volume of my breasts, that's fine with me. Breasts are more of a novelty to men anyway, though why they find sacks of fatty tissue attractive is beyond me.
I'm completely torn. Of course I want to appear attractive for my man, but the large-breasted, voluptuous version of me isn't the me that I'm comfortable being. I feel far more attractive when I can see my own bone structure beneath my skin, and if that means losing the volume of my breasts, that's fine with me. Breasts are more of a novelty to men anyway, though why they find sacks of fatty tissue attractive is beyond me.