Anticipation and fear

Looking forward to:
- the weekend
- my birthday
- mini-break in Cornwall in August that was supposed to be a surprise
- our trip to Barcelona in September
Afraid of:
- all the food accompanying the above
Let me get this straight: I'm not anorexic or wannarexic. I want to be skinny, yes, but I'm not willing to lose my hair and my teeth and grow lanugo all over my body and become weak and apathetic. That said, my relationship with food is that of desire and fear at the same time. I love food, but I know how dangerous it is for me. I know how tempting it is and how easily I could slip into the habit of eating more than I actually need. I can't avoid places and situations in which I'm expected to eat. Instead, I fast through the day and only eat the one meal I'm expected to, sticking to lesser evil: grilled chicken, poached fish, steamed veg. I try not to play with food on my plate too much - it could raise suspicion and suspicion is the last thing I want. Most of the time, the people around me are so immersed in conversation that they don't even notice the fact that I've only eaten hal of what was on my plate.
So, it's not that bad.
My partner is the worst one to eat with. He's too observant, too inquisitive. Sometimes I think I made a mistake when I told him about my problems with food in the past. I thought he'll protect me from all this, I hoped he'll stop it from coming back.
Or have I?
By the way, I'm 130.7 today. So, still down. Slowly, far too slowly to my liking, but down.