I woke up this morning to a text from my ex. ‘Have you been with anyone else?’

WHAT FUCKING BUSINESS IS IT OF YOURS?!

But no, I haven’t. That’s right. The queen of ‘The best way to get over one is get under another’ has not had rebound sex. Or any prospects for that matter.

(I take that back. I had a potential date last night and I cancelled.)

I’m not there yet. Sure, I broke up with him but here’s why:

He broke me down into a million pieces about my body image and my personality, about intimacy and sex, and left me that way.

I don’t feel sexy. I don’t feel comfortable being naked by myself in the shower let alone with another guy. I don’t feel hot with my ScarJo haircut but rather like ‘a reformed lesbian that just got out of a woman’s prison’ as he so affectionately referred to my ‘do. On top of that, I feel fat. Or am fat.

How did I get here? How did I go from telling myself every morning that I was beautiful, smart,  and worth it to THIS? How did I let someone get in MY head? When did I give him permission to make me feel less than fucking amazing? And why, after all of my friends tell me I’m worthy of great love and I’m out of this world and a unicorn, do I listen to one man?

And to break this cycle, has been exhausting. I notice myself hating other women based on their appearance when I used to notice the badassness in women that I had in myself.  I’m almost 33 fucking years old. What do I need to be jealous of another woman for?! Because, he always looked at them and said, ‘Those are the tits I wish you had’ or ‘That’s the body I wish you had’. I force myself to find something I like about women now, like I used to.

I also got into this pattern of counting my calories and how many I burned going to Spin classes and working my ass off on the elliptical. What should’ve been a positive health change turned into an obsession and while I haven’t been to the gym but maybe a handful of times since October, you can bet your ass I log everything I consume into my MyFitnessPal app. And if I have a day where I go over my calories, FUCK IT, the day is shot to hell. Off to Publix I go to load up on all the junk food and veg out for the rest of the day. The next day it’s back to counting.

I’ll be the first to say I have an unhealthy relationship with food right now. Fuck, not just food, with myself!  I’m doing my best to work on it and I guess admitting it is the first step, right?