I have never been so in love

I never been so caught up as I am today. Who am I so strung out on: Ana. Always her. Always and forever.

I've just made three phonecalls to some best friends; R1, A and R2. The two R's are having seperate birthday celebrations this evening. I cancelled. I have 'diarrhoea'. No I don't. I just ('just' falsely implying that it's not a big deal, which it is) feel too fat to engage in social activity. There comes a time in love when you need to choose, to prioritise. To prioritise Ana often requires that, rather than just lessening your focus on other things, you exclude them entirely. Such things include, at this point, having a life. I would love to be a well rounded person. I would love to be like my frenemy R3 who can calmly attend lunches and drinks and dinners and entertain only alcohol, foregoing anything that involves calories. But I can't. I'm a failure. I'm a stupid fat bitch. I have no self-control. And even when I do just drink (and drink and drink and drink) the aftermath always includes eating: fried eggs, toast, baked beans, butter, cheese, milkshakes, chocolate. Always.

Silly little bitch and your inability to restrain yourself. Foolish foolish failure. Who tells herself 'I can do it, I can do it, I can do it'. When clearly you can't. Five kilograms. I've put on five fucking kilograms.

And what is the fucking point of having a life when being fat just sucks all the enjoyment out of it?
I can't booze and enjoy: I just drown in the anxiety caused by alcoholic calories and the potential food calories to follow.
I can't dance and enjoy: I don't feel sexy in my clothes or sexy in my body.
I can't have sex with B: It pains me to even think of my naked self pressed up against the body of his toned and unselfconscious body.
I can't hook up with R4: she is too beautiful for me.
I can't even think about (crush) T: he is, after all, possibly the most beautiful man I've ever met.
I can't hook up with randoms: I just stew in insecurities. 'Did they go for me because they now they can, because I'm ugly, because I'm not worthy.'
I especially don't want to be around the friends who say 'Oooh, you've gotten so skinny'. It's a lie. I'm back over 60. I'M A FUCKING FAILURE. CAN'T YOU SEE THAT! Are you just mocking me?

My father has promised me a large (really) sum of money when I reach my 'GW' (55, natch my actual GW is 50) so that I can buy new clothes. But I'm already stretching the size 8 (how painfully average) jeans that fit me perfectly only a month ago. I need fucking new clothes before school starts. None of my fat-as-fuck clothes fit me. I can't be back on campus looking like shit: I WILL DIE INSIDE. How could I let myself go like this. I love Ana. I love her. And I'm failing her, wounding her, letting her down, dissapointing her. She has been there for me through everything. Holding me tight, keeping my seams tightly knit, my parts snugly glued together, everything turning steadly around one central axis as it should. Now I'm tearing apart, spinning out of control, off balance and out of sync. I need to retreat from the world so I can focus my energies on her. I'm committed. I'm in love. And we should do, with total conviction, ANYTHING for the one we love.

YES.
The choice is mine.
So make it.
Make it every day.
And mean it.

if you're tried of starting over; stop quitting

62
but I feel huge
I can see for the first time where I regain weight
my belly, my hips and lower back
my breasts, my face
-
how revolting
-
I shouldn't make excuses for myself
But I'm going to
Numerous stressful things have happened to me
the onset of post-exam/social-anxiety holiday depression
my crush, who I thought about, almost uncontrollably and constantly, throughout exams
much to my detriment of course
got back together with his only moderately attractive girlfriend
yes, the one that cheated on him
and who he subsequently trash-talked the whole year
(leaving me feeling... deflated... to say the least)
then
I lost my (man)virginity
that sounds bizarre
well, yes, it is a little
I'm bisexual
But I've been a practising lesbian since highschool
(by that I mean I was in relationships with women & therefore not having sex with men)
anyhow: while it was great, it was also stressful (emotions and all that)
then
my parents announced they are getting divorced
which I'm fine with
but, ya'know, still emotional stress
also
I have a friend who is, uhm, struggling to deal with my
skinnyness
and
frivolous displays of sexuality
and has now left me feeling extremely judged and 'out in the cold' in our friendship
then
well, there have just been numerous and continual minor dramas
buttressed by
alcoholalcoholalcohol
bad cocaine
bad sleeping patterns
too many cigarettes/too few cigarettes
and sooo many social events centred around food
-
and to think that i was at my lowest weight ever
58
at the end of exams
-
so let the starving start
again
if you're tired of starting over
STOP QUITTING!!!

61.2 feelings of unhappiness, feelings of need

I have seven days
to loose two point two kilograms
the way i feel right now
if i don't make it
i...
envision taking a knife
and plunging it into my leg repeatedly
angry rapid plunging knife
i don't know why
i don't want to kill myself
but i will want to die

i would - if i had him - want to tell the boy about my problem
i think i would have to
food makes me so anxious
not eating makes me so useless
i'd have to explain the body issues
surely?

What would i say?
I'd say:
i had a difficult childhood
it gave me issues
which gave me a problem
i binged
but i did not purge
then i took back some control
now i restrict
yes
that is what some people term 'anorexia'
although i still binge sometimes
but now i purge
yes
that is wha some people term 'bulimia'
yes
i throw up my food
and, yes, i do hate myself (sometimes)
and
i would want to tell you
that when i reach 55
i'll stop
but that would be a lie
i can never stop
*if* when
i reach 55
i will want to get to 50
just to be safe
just to be sure
just so i can feel strong
i would say;
i'm still a whole person
it's just that parts of me articulate themselves
in strange ways
could you still?
like me?
do you even?
think about me?
i wonder.

62. too much of healthy

Oooh Angie.
Look how thin?
Such an unparralleled beauty.
Today I ate:
1/8 cup muesli with fat-free milk.
1 coke zero.
Huge salad; cucumber, tomato, corn, beetroot,
vegetarian sausage, red bell pepper,
with pepper-lemon-chilli dressing
Another 'salad'; lentils, chickpeas, broccoli with
lemon-pepper-chilli-dressing.
15 almonds.
Very healthy.
But too much.
Do better tomorrow.
Always.
x

TURNING POINT (I hope)

I just took a moment to look through this blog.
Is alrigh'.
But strangely; despite the negative things going on here,
it gives me hope
because
I HAVE LOST WEIGHT.

I have not done it perfectly.
Not how I wished.
Not as fast as I would have liked.
BUT I AM A SMALLER GIRL NOW THAN BEFORE.

It shows me that:
YES.
I can do it.
You're already on your way.

As of now I am adjusting my goals.
DON'T WORRY!
The world as we know has not been turned on its ear.
55 is still my golden number.
HOWEVER.
As of now I want to focus on:
REACHING 60.
and never
never
never
going back over.

Once I have achieved that.
I will aim for 55.
Once I have reached that.
I will re-evaluate.
How do I look?
How do I feel?

God.
JUST LOOK AT HER.
I WANT TO FEEL BEAUTIFUL.
So.
60.
Do it.
Do it now.
And never look back.

63. sadly she ate

Was absolutely exhausted today (eeesssssaaaaayyyyy all nighter) so sadly, and predictably, I had a bit of a feast today; the usual minimal muesli for breakfast, popcorn (with some caloricly dense sour cream and chives seasoning), followed by two servings of a rather bizarre yet delicious corn-cheese-chilli-vegetarian burger concoction. So now I weigh 63kgs. And I'm seeing the boy tomo; like seeing in the usual context (on campus) and not to have hours of passionate sex (which is how I would prefer it. natch). *sigh* I'm not feeling motivated to diet; which is mad as usually a stupendous crush motivates me (I mean just look how I was earlier this year when I was lustingafter W. Man oh man. I've never hated myself so much. And, yes, it was fuckin' A). But I know have roughly 20 days until Coldplay... and 8 kgs to loose... that's 1 kg every 2.5 days. PLEASE GOD. I need to get my mind right. I need to restrict like there is no tomorrow. Water, cigarrettes, muesli, apples, tomatoes, ricecakes, marmite and chewing gum. That is all I need in my life right now. Have to. Must. Fuck'sakes!



ngggggggggg!
Amazing.
want. to. be. you.



Please.
Make me thin for him.
Oh wait.
No-one can do this for me.
FUCKTARD
Hungry.
for.
the.
next.
20.
days.
pleasepleaseplease
mustmustmust
*55*

calories and a minor boy misfire

Weighed in at 61 this morning. Just six *bastard* kgs to go. I'm getting compliments left, right and centre but it's meaningless if I don't hit goal weight.

I'm very open with my friends about my diet (they just don't know that I consider 450 calories a decent daily maximum amount... 300 is optimal... 200 is best...and as they're all skinny bitches so they would probably say 'oh okay' and 'calorie? what now?' anyway) and one just told me that if I stopped dieting now she thinks I'd be fine. It's nice to hear, but, NO! is my response. Personally; I need to be 55 *or else I will weep forever* but I want, or wish, that I could get down to 50, or between 45 and 50. God: that would be..... just amazing. But I'm going to worry about 55 first and foremost.

I definitely put back on since this morning as I had a farewell at a restaurant today; I could have not eaten but it would have put a dampener on things, got me grief from my bestie, and attracted a lot of attention... and just an overall bad idea. Stupid.

So I ate today: two rice-cakes with cheese, tomato and vegetarian sliced 'meat', then - out - expresso sized hot chocalate, two finger sandwiches with cucumber and cream cheese, half a mini spinach and feta quiche, half a scone with cream and jam, and a small piece of chocolate cake. Gross. Hate food. Hate feeling full; I just get anxious and want to cry.

But *small moments of happiness* my mom bought me tights: a small... they fit perfectly and look fantastic. oh happiness. Moment two; a new acquintance - gay & male - came up to me at a party on Weds and said, as I reclined on a coach with a martini glass in hand (as one should); 'Wow, the way you're sitting right now makes me wish I was an attractive female!' Hahaha 'attractive female', makes me sound like a show-dog, but still, what a sweetie.

So to the minor boy-related backfire... as I'm enjoying recording my exploits in trying to bed the current man of my dreams: I contacted another male friend to get dream-boys number and, consequently, ended up hanging with that guy - let's call him E - and my friend R on Tuesday night. He left her flat at around 11... he messaged me at 4am to tell me he thinks I'm sexy. OMG. A minor disaster; you contact a man to stalk another man and unwittingly attract man-1's attention. Whoops. Oh well; it's nice to be sexy. Just wish it was T telling me his and not E.  I just don't feel that way about E and there's nothing I can do about that. Sigh.

Ah, hotties in luuurrrvvve.
Or lust ;)
I want to be sexy for:
(1) me
(2) T
(3) to rub it in the face
of anyone who ever thought
I would never be

schmehnehnehneh

So: my 1-day-stomach-shrinkage (aka 1 day fast) was going well. Until my bestie requested a dinner date. She is leaving me to do her Masters in Philosophy at St. Andrews, Scotland, on Friday and thus I cannot deny seeing her. I'm going to miss her so much.............. She is so wonderfully mad. I miss her already and she hasn't even finished packing yet.

So today I ate: nothing UNTIL; a Hazelnut Magnum, calamari and chips & a coke zero. So yes; saturated fats, sugar, salt, grease. FAIL. God so full. Disgusting. Disgusting-fat-fuck.

And naturally this just means that I will have to shrink-stomach again tomorrow, and it's late, and I need to work like a beast so;
(a) I don't fail
(b) I can attend said bestie's farewell drinks on Weds, an acquintances birthday tea & eating event on Friday, as well as another long time friend's (also much missed and not often seen) pre-drinks and madness that evening. Urgh. So many calories to avoid. So much weight to loose. Fuckityfuckfuck.

However, on the upside, I went shopping today and (!) I'm smaller than I thought I was. Although I still feel and look fat. Naturally. I bought a top in a small, shorts in a ten, and a shirt in a ten. I also tried on several things - jeans, shorts etc - that were size eights, which fit, but I was on a limited budget and didn't dig them that much. So yah. but I still feel very anxious about loosing the remainder of the weight. Must reach 55. Mustmustmust.

Sigh. I really want to be 55 by the time I go to Coldplay... that's in exactly 1 month... 7 kgs in a month. Gawd. If everything goes perfectly I can do it. But things never go perfectly now do they.

Everybody needs a BFFE
Why does mine have to leave me?
*sad face*

'the boy' and girls weekend of dietary disaster

Had a weekend away with my babes. My tightest besties from highschool (I'm now in grad school) and I hit a farmhouse surrounded by orange orchards and hot springs to drink copious amounts of gin, smoke 'til we're hoarse and talk about sex non-stop... as one does.

Jesus, what an emotional rollercoaster. They're such lovely fuckin' people which is, of course, awesome in terms of friendship. But so much doubt festers; when they say I have a chance with him, are they just being supportive? When they say I've lost weight; are they just being kind? Is conversation full of what I want to hear, when the hard truth might keep me safe?

I need self-loathing to make me loose weight... and... I put on 3 (three. fucking three.) kilograms this weekend. after having weighed in at my lowest - 61 - on friday morning. Jesus. Jesus fuck. It was the alcohol, the carbs, the impossibility of restricting when surrounded by food and people eating it.

I'm fasting tomorrow. There is no other option. But I have so much school work - I'm doing law, I have 7 courses and I'm struggling - and I need energy from food to do it. God I hate that I need that shit in my body. I just wish I could do a Sleeping Beauty; lie back, close my eyes, waste away, be awoken by a kiss from my prince, look in the mirror and be like 'fuck yeah'. Pfffft. I wish.

Boy update: Hit the town on thursday night with three friends from campus. We invited a host of other campus people but the weather was truly atrocious and most faded. However; we'll call him V, showed up. V is not the boy. But V is awesome. I'm not interested in him, nor he in me (he has a beautiful girlfriend) but I was amped.

I was content. The evening was going along and we were all getting drunk, V was there, my girls were there and I was happy, relaxed and generally awesome. T - the boy - well, I had invited him, but the hours were going by and he never arrived. He doesn't really come to many campus-friend events, not sure why; maybe he's shy, or too cool, who knows? I'd given up on him, then, the table goes quiet for a split second: Hi. He came.

God. I felt like a cold bolt of lightning split my body.

The evening went on. I got us all tequila. We were going to go out. I decided, however, that I needed drugs. V, R, T and myself went back to R's flat. Thats me, one of my new best friends (female that is), a new male friend I absolutely dig (and who happens to be the hottest guy - next to T - on campus) and T, and me. WTF. No really; what the fuck? Can you handle; I'm too fucking lucky.

I proceeded to share a gram of cocaine with the other two in front of T. No problem. Via our conversation he knows that I'm - really, really, really - bisexual: no problem. He knows I've never dated a guy... he thinks I just use guys for sex though, which is entirely untrue. But he just seems so totally fine with me being the strange person I am. He 'likes eccentric woman'. Jesus.

So; basically he drove me back to my house at 4:30 am. I gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek, wished him a good night, and went to bed. Why-oh-why am I not a slut???

I wish I could just throw myself at him. I want him so so so badly. Ridiculous. It's ridiculous. People who have mad crushes on gorgeous men are not meant to get this close to them. Fuck; I have no idea what to do. I don't know how to act around him. I don't know whether he is even vaguely interested in me. I just don't know. God. Nightmare. Fuckin' stress. Want him. No idea what to do about it. Need to be thin so I can - finally for once in my life - feel hot and just push him up against a wall and molest him. Must calm down but can't. God: I'm ridiculous, this situation is ridiculous. Fuckfuckfuck. *nnnnnnngggggggggg* Please; exscuse me.

If these were my legs I could die happy.
But only after the boy had fucked me senseless.
Natch.
;)

what's new puddy-tat? am I just a copy-cat?

A copy-cat anorexic. Someone who mimics the symptoms of a 'real eating disorder'/real eating disorder in order to achieve the major side-effect aka drastic weight-loss/

Maybe I is. Maybe I ain't. But if I is, I's sure a good at it ;).

What's prompting this ramble; I just watched an interesting vid posted by a girl to her tumblr. She is very anti pro-ana. She hates us. She thinks we're fucktards. *I'm sure she has a bit of a point, but doesn't everyone* However miss thang does acknowledge that fucktards - like myself - who get involved in this community may, potentially, trigger a lurking disorder. We might end up being legit in her eyes. lol.

Anyhow; do I have an eating disorder?

I don't know. I believe I definitely had, past tense, something that feels like, and also objectively *ya'know using my brain and all* seems to have been huge issues with food: bingingbingingbingingbinging. I'm pretty sure that thing. Those years and years and years of fucking torment that I remember; I think that was disordered to the point of being a disorder. And the crazy thing; I only see it now, in all it's repulsive clarity, now that I'm within a normal weight range (no longer obese, if one trusts good old BMI). And I've taken it round the other way; I love calorie counting. restricting. i don't like purging but i thank god for it. and then i don't. and then i do. So in a way; I'm better now. In another; I may have triggered my EDNOS type thing into rearing a skinnier, but more problematic, spectre.

Do I have an eating disorder? Did I? I really cannot, and refuse to, say. It seems pretty fashionable - in this space - to deny having anorexia/bulimia/something classifiable (even EDNOS). I fully respect that.What those girls say; it makes total sense to me. However, to re-approach the vlogger, I think it is overly simplistic, if not naive, to portray disorders as some kind of externally realised totem to which victims are ascribed and which wannabes attempt to climb. We all know that, in crazy-people-science, diagnosis itself is a hugely controversial issue. Some would even say it is a huge part of the problem. I'm not all that concerned with working out what I am. I am concerned with being thin. That is why I'm here. That is all there is to it.

Love this lil creature.
She is so creepy.
And so delightfully small.
Yes, yes, she's a child, whatever.
TODAY'S INTAKE.
2 pieces of watermelon-flavoured gum.
10 cals.
niiiiiiiiiiiiiccccceeeee

if can't get this right, i'll die, i'll simply curl up and die, or even worse... i'll keeping living, wishing everyday that i had.

What a morbid title. But no matter. I want to talk about the boy, the new boy, the perfect boy. His perfect eyes, his perfect collar-bones, his perfect body. 

I hate it. I hate that my body makes me so unworthy. I want him. For one hour. For a night. The thought of more than that stresses me out exponentially.

The sight of his ex-girlfriend, whom I shamelessly stalked via facebook, has had a similarly discombobulatory effect. Firstly; many, almost all, of her profile pictures include him. It's so bizarre to see him as one half of a couple. His body language; it makes me start imagining them together..... together. She seems to be very weird. Somewhat... tacky? trashy? or perhaps just 'who gives a fuck?' which might work for her. But she's thinner than me.

Of course she is.

Everyone is thinner than me - yes, everyone on the goddamn planet, I don't give a fuck about realism or perspective right now - and it just breaks me apart. Breaks me wide open.

He has this really soft voice, soft but really deep, and a really throaty masculine laugh, it's so......... He's dark; his skin, his eyes, his hair. He's smart. Funny. Clever. Makes silly immature jokes of the kind that I definitely appreciate. He flirts.

But I'm sure I'm not the only one.

He's what people would call, without a doubt, 'baby-faced' but his body........ my God........... I've never really been attracted to a 'buff' guy before. Never. I prefer them toned. Or even slightly androgynous. But him. God. He's just the right height for me; taller but not tall. Broad shoulders. Muscles; there is a lot of perfectly proportioned, not too much, not too little, muscle. I just know he's hiding a six pack under there. God, I just want him to pick me up with those perfect arms and have his way with me, and me with him, of course.

It's incomprehensible how debilitating it is to be this attracted to someone. My self-worth is shattered. My eating is all over the fucking place (fuckfuckfuckfuck). I can't look at him, can't have a proper conversation with him, I just feel like I'm making a complete and total ass out of myself. Why; well... if I were thin... if I weighed 55.... instead of 65.... well..... things would be different. That may sound ridiculous; but, the thing is, I know myself. I know how I am with guys. I know I could end up, slightly tipsy, kissing him, my hands running up his perfect arms, over his perfect shoulders, clasped behind that beautiful head. I want him. I want to be thin.

Emaciated LiLo.
Love.love.love. it
So fucking hot.
The way I feel right now:
Dying to be thin.

I miss...

I miss who I was
when I was here
and here was who I was

there is no one better than she

day 61

1/8 cup muesli wth ff milk
2 dry rice cakes
tbsp of pumpkin seeds
coffee, black
1 whole tomato
8 cucumber crudites
2 pickles
1 cup lf cocoa
.... and then i went out for dinner at a friends place and it all went horribly wrong...
2 glasses red wine
2 servings pasta and salad
slice of milk tart
piece of tiramisu
choc milkshake
purge. but it was too late and most of that has now diffused into my body...

nearly 66kgs

tomorrow: day 60. i have to have to have to have to do this thing. i have to.

day 62

I say day 62 because it's 62 days until Coldplay. And one does need a goal, doesn't one?

CW: just over 65kgs *oh vomit*

Today was depressingly nutritionally sound. Yet disturbingly high in calories. Why does my body want to eat like a normal person. I mean, who's in charge here? Hello... brain? Are you in there?!

the F word:
1/8 cup muesli with ff milk
1 x campus coffee (with 1sp suga and milk with fat in it of some kind)
1 x tea (also milk of some nature, there my hae been sugar)
1 x salad (1/2 can cocktail shrimp, half an avocado, lots of lettuce, chilli-lemon-olive oil dressing)
1 x piece dried mango
3 x almonds
1 x salad (repeat of above)
8 x baby tomatoes with hummus
8 x almonds
couple of sips of each-mango juice
1 x orange

fuck me. so basically; i health binged. *sigh*

warning of imminent boring

So, I need to be back here: I have an impending highschool reunion (the horror, so unbecoming) and if i don't look hot!!! heaven help us all. My self-loathing has dissipated somewhat. which is extremely unhelpful when it comes to analand. all i can say is; i'm recommitting. and this is the space in which i will do it. and by it i mean; lose a fuckload of weight. So, yes, I'm back *beats self over head* and i'm going to *nnnnnggggggggggg* record my intake everyday. every-frikkin-day *wallops self again*

i must must must get back into the place of true restriction. the hungry days. a recipe for losing. so tomorrow it begins, afresh, anew, but most importantly: again. stronger. better. going harder than before *oh god*

veganism

I came home from babysitting my nephew tonight and, having recently fucked up my sleeping habits in true vacationary style, I was filled with that vague sleepless late-night energy that drives me to eat and watch bad TV. We currently receive this free, extremely amateurish, TV station. Since these TV people have no money and no advertisers (yet, or ever perhaps) they screen a hodge-podge of bizarre but free documentaries. These include grainy pieces about India, Asia and other 'exotica', rash Americans screaming about 9/11 conspiracies and communism, and (fairly regularly) a host of environmental escapades about pesticides, the ocean, veganism, and the slow erosion of life as we know it by our self-made armageddon.

So. I happened to watch the beginning of Earthlings. I've seen parts of it before and I've always been touched and impressed. I think it's extremely well constructed (both technically and ideologically). Of course I am appalled by its content and my own complicity in the many horrendous acts and industries it documents. Of course! That's the point.

I've been a pescitarian for about two years. This means that, although I don't eat beef, pork, chicken, ostrich, crocodile or human, I still eat heaps (even more so know that I've cut out the aforementioned) of tuna, cheese, eggs and milk, as well as all the animal derivatives that go into all our convenient modern food, supplemented by regular sushi feasts incoporating slamon, prawns and crab meat.

I would like to stop all that.

I would like to be as far removed from The Cove as possible.

I would happily isolate myself from the mindset of the men who picked up a homeless dog and put it into a garbage truck, while still very much alive, and crushed it to death (as seen in Earthlings).

I love my pets.

I want all life forms which feel pain and desire life, which enjoy freedom and seek companionship, which care for their young and are capable of  befriending human animals, to be able to go about their existance to the best of their abilities without our need to confine, abuse, exploit and kill them, interfering with any of them.

Just as I would like other people to leave me to do the same.

Racism, sexism, homophobia, agism, classism, discrimination in all its forms, and speciesism: might is right, the Bible says it's okay, but, but, but, but, exscuses, exscuses, excuses, laziness, unwillingness to be self-critical or pro-active or revolutionary, failure to try.

Don't they say 'be the change you want to see in the world'.

06 July

I always wanted a winter-time anniversary to celebrate.

I will try.

I will make mistakes sometimes.

But I'm going to try.



I can smoke, I can drink, I can eat, breathe, converse, laugh. I can be myself. I have everything I need.

I have the earth, the moon, the stars in the sky.

The air I breathe.

I don't need fucking cheese.

Immediately after watching Earthlings I went to go and clean up in the kitchen.

I was about to clean the snackwich machine and, thinking about what I had just watched, I absentmindly picked a peace of grilled cheese of the snackwicher and put it in my mouth - and chewed. Ah. The irony and the hypocrisy. I realised what I was doing; spat the cheesy remnants into the sink and rinsed out my mouth like a potty-mouthed schoolkid would.

Like I said; mistakes will be made.

The wagon shall be fallen from.

A body and a conscience that is as light as she.

All I can do is try.

: )

*fasting is gold*

Fasting is and will always be my last resort. I'm no good on no food. But right now I'm no good in general so it would only be in keeping with the general theme. I've reached this terrifying space where I can, finally, as I expected I would, see myself regaining the weight I've lost. It is terrifying. It is the bedrock at the basest point of any pit of despair. I am fat. But to be who I  used to be...? I think about all the clothes I've given/thrown away; jeans that hang from me like they are in orbit around my body; shirts that billow like sails heading for the new world; garments that once sat snugly on the layers of lard that where 'me'. How can I even entertain this possibility. The horror; where ends meet. A journey back to the beginning, a journey on which I would rather die than reach the conclusion. Imagine I arrived even worse than before.

I have a folder of pictures on my computer called 'this is why'. If I were to elaborate it would be 'this is why you should starve, and starve, and starve, you fat-disgusting-pig'. I hate that folder. I really hate opening it. But why worry. Some of those images are seered into my grey-matter. Photo's of me juxtaposed with skinny friends; my whale-like form a mirage of morbid flesh. God. It's revolting.

That's why I need to FAST tomorrow. And preferably this entire weekend. But I can only (like an alcoholic, except my addiction is food) take one day at a time.

I pray to you; Gods of Anorexia, Gods of Bulimia. I'll make you offerings: a sacrament of tears, time and sleep. I'm yours. You can keep my soul, I'll give it wholeheartedly, if only you will assist me. Take from me the great, ever-yawning chasm of need that I stuff with food. Take from me hunger pangs. Take from me a failing will, a flagging commitment to our cause. Take from me everything. If only you will give me the strength to stay the course. To break the cycle. To end the addiction. Put me in control; at the zenith, the apex, at which I will be a cold, hard, fiery force which can resist any temptation, which knows no desperation or weakness, but maintains only a fierce grip and an iron control on my body and my irrational cravings-yearnings-achings-emptinesses which (in strange moments of stupidity) I believe food will subsume/fill/erase. Please. Help me.

My GOLDEN FOODS remain the same

• water
• cigarettes

then

• gum
• green/chai/lemon... tea (no milk. no sugar)
• coke zero

then (which will of course not be included in the fast)

• tomato, lettuce, cucumber
• rice-cakes
• apples (cut into a bazillion wafer-thin slices)
• cocoa (as in pure cocoa powder, not hot chocolate/milo etc) with fat free milk
• muesli (teeny-tiny amounts)with fat free milk

Food that is DEAD TO ME

• carbohydrates, such as: pasta, potatoes, bread, cous cous, rice......
• almonds (always available, always bingeable)
• eggs (i eat too many and they're bad; cholesterol)
• dessert type stuff: chocolate, yoghurt, ice cream, hot chocolate........
• alcohol! (the devil; not filling, and then i get pissed and drink way more than I intended and then want to eat the hangover away)
• .... I'm sure there are more, but I'll know those demons when I see them....

So let it begin.

I'm supposed to be seeing the ladies on Saturday night.

Dinner and a movie.

So sweet.

Hopefully I can fake an illness for dinner.

...

And I can look forward to Wednesday.

Hopefully coke with R & V.

They can get rat-faced.

I can get high.

How convivial.

Please, please, please, you silly-stupid-little-girl.

Do this.

Just do it.

You have to.

The magic number is calling...

let me see 'ya one-two-step



Aaaaah, what a relief to be back to a safe routine:

breakfast:

green tea + 1/8 cup muesli with fate-free milk + cigarette

Now that's the breakfast of a believer.

*must try to stay food free as I can (a) have nachos with friends tonight, or (b) have sushi with a friend tonight. food wise and socially i would rather go with the sushi. it's much less draining to be drained around only one person. that... and i can't drink anymore, after... wednesday night. ugh. ugh. ugh. dis-gus-ting. cocaine and white wine are not BFFE as it turns out*

canada, ooooh canada + tegan and sara +

I'm going to bed hungry.
In fact I'm in bed hungry.
And have been so for awhile.
In fact I had all the energy and stuff assembled to go crazy and write a hectic post.
But then I got swallowed by the vortex aka youtube... and... here we are.
The point: I'm not canadian. But I would totally immigrate if Tegan and Sara would meet me at the airport.
And Sara would promise to be my BFFE.
And Tegan would FUCK me.
oh lol. could not resist.
damn. they are so fine.
But Tegan is like *rapturous eye-rolling*

So I drove home from babysitting my nephew.
Singing the 'I'm going to bed hungry' song.
It's rather repetitive; the babysitting, as well as the song
Let's just say at one point I had to pause and sincerely ask my one-year old charge: 'Are you the spawn of Satan? Should I call an exorcist?' ... he said nohing, but did rattle his cage and shriek wildly : (
And - being hungry - I kind of zoned out into this mental/physical stupor of
acceleration and swerving, there was an uneventful stand off at a circle, with the police, but other than that
... go to bed hungry, but don't drive so hungry you can't work your limbs or brain.

What a babe.
And, most importantly, a skinny babe.



Lesbian twins who can sing.
I think this might be the definitive 'win-win' situation.



siiiiiiiiiiiggggghhhhhhhhhhh.
mmmmmmmmmm-mmm-mmmm.
must get thin
must purchase green skinny jeans
in order to be awesome, as above ; )

There's no need to apologise

Terror.
Highschool reunion on the horizon.
A whiff of sulphur, a touch of bitchiness, a look of longing...
are we back in the teen-years people?
Come now.
Suuuuuuurrrrrely not.

Did someone mistakely tell you that you can't do it.
Be thin. I mean.
What on earth possessed them?
To say a stupid thing like that?
They must have forgotten who we are.
And why we're here.
Why we start fires, bend blades, kill cats, dig graves;
Because I'm a motherfucking anorexic, you stupid cunt.
And when i say i'll do it, i'll do it.
Who the fuck are you?
That's right.
You're fucking nobody.
And I'm the fucking king of my castle.

The time has come.
Can you here it?
That strange, rythmic, magnetic, hypnotic noise.
What is it, they say.
It's success, baby, and we the only bitch at this station gettin' on board!
Choooo - ooooooo

wtf blogger?

my last two posts have disappeared. man that is not cool. *grumpy*

breakfast: soft-boiled egg & a cup of coffee
lunch: gaint matzah, half with 2 tbsps of avocado, other half with like 1/4 cup tuna + 2 sundried tomatoes
snack: 5 almonds
supper: smoothie thing with a whole banana, an orange, and half a cup yoghurt, 1/4 cup milk
+ 2 cups roast vegetables
+ errrrrrrhhhhh 25, yes 25, almonds

i'm happy that it was all healthy stuff, but still, too many calories!!!
... & man i am pissed about loosing those posts! it doesn't make sense!

i got the golden ticket ;)

ecstaticness! goldencircleColdplay *gasp* *hyperventilation* !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i have wanted to see them live since........ aaaaahhhh. happy.

i ate today:
brkfst: apple
lunch: 1/2 cup butternut soup, 1/2 cup lentil soup (surprisingly good!)
snack *egh* i should not be snacking! hate loosing control! : 3 sundried tomatos & an orange... not together exactly, that would taste phunky
supper: a lot of roast vegetables... like 3cups? 4 cups?
bvrges: 2 cups coffee

probably rather high in calories: errrrrrr 1500? *oohohohohoh* horrible
but still: no purging, and i ate veg and fruit the whole day. *happiness of nutritive calories*
but all that potato is making me feel carby aka sleepy... and yet again i have got no studying done *sigh*

oh well; in honour of C'play i thought i'd put up some pics of Mrs Chris Martin

hmmm, even though i would definately say that
she is - objectively - beautiful
there's just something about her
???
she's just so not sexy
and a little scary
but thin so therefore relevant
(that's my exscuse and i'm sticking to it)

skinny, with an ass.
?
how do i manage to be fat
with no ass?
probs she works out
seems boring

Ah, lovely, looks like she took a nap under a summery tree
that dropped all its blooms on her
... and painted her toes.
how would a tree do such a thing?
what with having no hands?

one whole purge-free day

One whole day; purge free. It's such an accomplishment I even got down and dirty and cleaned the toilet. Now it's porcelein white, much like my conscience, if not like my teeth. *that's just charming*

The in-flight food on board restriction airways:
brkfst: shiny green apple (90)
lnch: two rice cakes, with garlic (gah, burny, who knew!), cucumber, tomato, salt, pepper (160)
sppr: salad with iceberg lettuce, a whole tomato, soft boiled egg, spring onion, sesame seeds & pepper (160)
dsrt: orange (70)
bvrgs: two cups lemon tea, one cup coffee (no sugar, fat free milk) (60)

= 540.

gawd. not much makes many calories... but otherwise; there was no purging .: victory. i can't actually believe it. madness i tell you.

Miley 'smiley miley' Cyrus and her new boyf Avan Jogia.
well... that's what google tells me ;)
exibit (a) look at those skinny legs. mmm. envious.
exibit (b) he is damn fine. and look how is just standing there
glaring at the pap's. haha lol

shoowhee

beautiful... and so lovely without all that drag queen make-up they
whoever 'they' is
always steep her in

very all-american
reminds me of a Ralph Lauren campaign

vampy. hawt.

............... and. omgomgohmygaaaaaaaawwwwdddd *drawl* i may (please!!!!) be going to Coldpay COLDfrikkinPLAY in october. golden circle *holds thumbs knocks on wood hails deities* pleeeeaaaaaassseeeee universe. i .love. them.

peace. out.

hands where made for hitting

i purged three times today. miss m for the win. nawt.
so why bother recounting what i ate. because obv it was a disaster.
i fucking hate it. i have to stop throwing up. i'm going to fuck my teeth.
i'm going to fuck my body up.
*whatever* *hair flip*
i need to be eating minimal amounts of nutritive calories.
at specific times.
from my safe foods.
i know this.
i have always known this.
what the fuck is my problem.
is it my imagination or did Nike have this slogan; 'just do it'
that's it: just do it. no exscuses. just do it.

Freja Beha. Ah, that chiselled jaw.
Those twiglike legs.
Total androgenous dreamboat.

Wow. So small.
This reminds me of lying on the floor of the Louvre.
Ah, to be 16 and hopelessly in love again.
Fuck ;)
*now shut-up and stop eating*