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