minor freakout

I hate pictures of myself so much that I go to great lengths to avoid being photographed. There are only a few pictures of me from the last few years because I've gotten pretty good at this. Most of my friends that would, on occasion, tote around a camera have learned to accomodate my shyness, and all is well.

All is well, except for one friend's wife. She takes her digital camera everywhere and my camera-shyness only motivates her more to take pictures of me. Well, she is part of a small group of girls that has been getting together lately for Girls' Nights. The first time, we went salsa-dancing. This past Saturday, we had a cookie-baking extravaganza at my place, and she took about 30 pictures that included me.

Yesterday, she emailed them out to the group. I look terrible. I can't stand to look at my huge fatness and avoid looking at myself in the mirror-- even just my face. I don't put on makeup largely because of this uncomfortableness, and I rarely model the day's clothing in the long mirror, either. I hate looking at myself. It isn't motivating to me, its depressing. Emailing out 30 terrible pictures of me to other people is not just forcing me to look at myself and be ashamed, but is also excruciatingly humiliating because other people get to look at those awful pictures of me and silently thank their deity that they aren't fat like me.

So yeah, I had a little freakout. I had to run by the grocery store on the way home last night to get some supplies for this week's meals (baked potatoes with lowfat sour cream, lowfat cheese, and lean turkey bacon; cheese tortellini with lean turkey sausage and marinara sauce), and I was in such a funk that I grabbed a box of brownie mix. And made brownies last night. And ate about a third of a pan (with milk) and of course, felt like a huge failure all night.

Now I am in full avoidance mode: I avoided the scale this morning for the first time in weeks.

I am so mad at myself. After Saturday's cookie day, I managed to eat only a couple cookies and I gave all the rest away on Sunday so they were out of temptation's reach. And then Monday I go and blow it, big time. I don't understand how I can be such a rational person about other things in my life, but then look at fat pictures of myself and say, "Gee, I'm so sad to be fat. What will fix that? Hmmm, eating a whole pan of brownies!"