Idol Body.

The battle lately has been to not constantly dwell on how large and round my arms feel, like giant sausages.
I posted a couple of months back that I had very randomly and from no effort on my own lost ten pounds. This random weight loss sent me quietly sailing off a cliff into the free fall of anorexic thoughts, of living on the verge of devastating fear.
This scared the crap out of me (I'm over waking up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat, shaking for fear of what I ate before bed would morph my little body into some grotesque blob), so even though the sick part of me, the sinful part, took lots of satisfying pleasure out of seeing the veins in my arms start to emerge from the skin, the contour of my ribs when I got dressed in the morning, I started eating. A lot.
And over these three months I have safely put back on that ten pounds, so I am back where I started, where I was before the random weight loss for two years. And I was happy as a clam.
But today my arms feel like giant sausages, like long swollen balloons the clowns use to make puppy dogs.
It's absolutely ridiculous.
I talked to my sister and she reminded me the struggle is God's way of saying, "You've replaced me with idol "Skeleton Arms".
So I have been replacing my consuming thoughts, feelings, and devotion to my stupid arms (or attempting to at least) with thoughts of Christ, of others, of eternity.
This "transforming of [my] mind" is working, though the process seems impossibly slow, and the last couple of mornings the first thing I think of is how incredibly large my arms feel, giving the battle a strong first blow.
But seriously, I am not discouraged, or afraid. I have fought these battles before and know all too well Who is fighting for me, Who has already won.