Tonight my dad basically told me that he didn't believe that I had an eating disorder. He said it didn't matter how much I was trying with therapy... He said trying didn't count. He said that only actions counted. He said I didn't diet or get any excersize so I couldn't complain about my weight or how I feel. I guess he is right but the whole conversation felt very unsupportive.
Just like last weekend, I'm spending Saturday night at my parents house upset about everything.
I started the day by getting a facial which was really nice and relaxing. Then I went with my mom to the bridesmaid dress place and they said they could take out the dress 2 inches. Thank god.
It was really hard for me to go into the store and explain that the dress was too small. I had a lt of anxiety about just going there. On the way home I told my mom that I felt really bad, like I wasn't getting better. I told her that I wasn't sure that things would ever get better... I feel really pessimistic about everything. So I cried, she cried, and here I am again sleeping in the room I grew up in, while my friends are all at a bar without me.