Monday, 28 December 2009

"That I essentially am not in madness, But mad in craft..."

What was it that made me this way?

I was talking to my ex boyfriend and he asked me if I still drew.
I'd forgotten that I used to draw.
I was talented at it. Like I was at all the arts I suppose.... drawing, poetry, music....
at least I still write.
And only when he brought it up again did it strike me - how dead I am now - how mechanical - how sober - how cold... like so much around me.
My creativity has been so slowly smothered by this heartless world that I didn't even notice it dying. And now I'm left standing in the middle of a choking expanse of city - just a plain face to be networked by soulless bellies full of money.

If I ever make it as a lawyer I will be dead. I won't be Ophelia anymore.
Do you understand?
I'd be one of them. The Unfeeling. Superficial Unfeeling. PLASTIC. A corporate mould of perfected plainness.
I don't WANT to be like that for the sake of being normal.
This is me: emotional, passionate, wild, untamed, full of pain and heart and insanity. But FULL.

And yet, I want it, because I must succeed.
And like this I am a terrible failure. A head full of beauty cannot earn a living. A head full of economics and theory can. I must block out all the beauty to survive - because it is taking over everything... I cannot concentrate on anything but calories and mirrors and images and dreams.
But this is who I am.
I'm so afraid of losing what makes me me.
But if I did, I would be normal
...and happy?

You see, perhaps I am happier being disordered - as that is how Nature/God has made me. To be normal - would be a torturous, dulling and numbing experience for my personality - surely?

So, I need to go back to this guy - "D" - because it's really hurting my head.
I need to know what I'm doing and why I'm doing it.
I need to know whether I'm going to be true to myself - crazy, adrenaline-junkie, passionate, emotional Ophelia - or try and convert myself into the another girl - focused, steady, sensible.
Why is D important to me?
1. I need to feel emotion - I need someone to focus my affections on
2. I need excitement and a project to fuel this
3. I need male attention to make me feel good about myself
4. I need a method to assess my success/failure as a beautiful woman
5. I need motivation to lose weight.

Now, in trying to be sensible I have tried to convince myself that all the above reasons are stupid. I need to leave "the club", I need to focus on my law studies, nothing will come of my relationship with D anyway, and it's all a waste of time that will end up with me getting hurt. ALL TRUE. I know this.
However, I am not a sensible, rational, level-headed girl. I NEED all those five things I listed. And that's why I need to keep D as a goal.
It is just not an option to forget about him and carry on with my life.
I. Can't. Do. It.

And still, I hate myself... for being so crazy.

It would be so easy to forget the whole idea - I'd simply not get in contact with him again, not go to his place and basically not see him ever again. But, every time I contemplate the idea - it becomes acceptable for me to eat again. "It doesn't matter how fat I am now... I'm not going to see D"
I can't let that happen. I can't let it be ok for me to be fat.
Even though... I should be revising for my mock exams in two weeks... it is more important that I am starving and plotting how to perfect my visit to him.

In other news, I went to the hospital today.
I was visiting two of my elderly neighbours who are both there at the moment.
It really struck me, for the first time, how healthy I am. I mean, forget about the eating disorder and the fucked-up head; PHYSICALLY, I am in such good shape. Pretty much peak for a female non-professional-athlete. I was standing in the middle of the ward, surrounded by frail bodies - limbs devoid of muscle, skin drained of vibrancy - and I could feel my health and strength vibrating from me as I stood, tall and easy. It was the first time that I felt aware of my body as a positive being. It was the first time I didn't hate it, and I realised just how lucky I am to have a fit and healthy body.

It's such a shame that I am so determined to destroy it all.
But I can't be someone else. My craft is written in my soul.

Friday, 25 December 2009


Dear everyone
I hope you are all having a very Merry Christmas, I hope you are all safe, with your families and I hope you are all well. I want to take this opportunity - in case you don't all already know - to tell you all how much I love and value you and how much you all touch my hearts everyday. I hope you know that I am walking and cheering you every step of the way until you reach your dreams....

* * *

I am so thankful for this cyber somewhere over the rainbow. Our buzzwords: 'beauty', 'perfection', 'thin' - they are so socially unacceptable - not right to think - not right to believe in or desire.
All I hear is their anger, whenever I explain that I want to be perfect.
"You should be happy and accept yourself as you are."
"BUT WHY?! I know I can be better than this, so why shouldn't I work to be better? Why should I accept myself in this lowly state? - WHAT is so wrong about wanting to better myself and strive for perfection?!"
It's the same argument I have with every person, the same old argument - I never get given a good reason, just the same good prejudice.
But here - you all understand - perfection - why I want and need it - and you all support it. It's so special.

I have thrown up 7 times in the last 48 hours.

The stench of vomit won't wash off from my fingers.

I just need to write that, so I cannot escape from how humiliating it is. The evil part of me took over.

Nothing inside me until I go to him. I predict 7th January. No, make it the 8th - two weeks, exactly two weeks - nothing. It's a game, just a silly game that is a matter of life and death.
I don't care if I die, as long as I die drowning.

Wait... I'm sorry that's not very festive.

Here's what I say:
Exercise. Sweat. Work. Everyday for the next two weeks - there is no room for weakness.
Harder, faster, stronger - until my body is burning up.
The mind is just a substance that needs to be controlled. The body is just a lump of matter that needs to be defined.
I love you all so much. I love my body. I love everything about this world and I want to be a beautiful part of it.
I will not destroy anything anymore. Everything must be beautiful. Everything I do must be for the pursuit of beautiful perfection.
No more sickness for my body; just love, just care, just beautiful.
Only simple, natural foods are beautiful enough for my body. Carbohydrates, fat, processed sugar - are all evil and foul. My body craves exercise, it sends me on a glorious high. I must never come down.

I want to be so light that I walk in the snow and leave no footprints.

One day :)


Sunday, 20 December 2009


I've been drifting in and out of consciousness for the past two or three weeks -
Consciousness between this world and that, between London and heaven, between then and now...
My name is Ophelia
... sometimes
Sometimes I'm drowning, sometimes I'm soaring, sometimes I'm so alive I can't feel anything except the pulse rushing through my head, sometimes I'm so dead I need a knife to make me bleed.
On Thursday I was 'happy' and 'normal'.
I was SO happy and normal.
I went to law school, made it in for the 9am lecture start, sat between two of my girlfriends, giggled though the whole day with them, went out with my tutor group for drinks and a meal at the end of the day, laughed, chatted incessantly and finally took the first footprints in the thick, fresh snow as I wandered home in the early hours with a sweet smile on my face.
And then I shut the door, and I'm drowning again, until the next time...

* * *

His name is "D".
Yes - another male name which will feature in this blog.
I make no apologies. If I fall, I fall - even if it happens too often and too easily.
D is the guy I mentioned in the last post.
...I didn't think it would get to this.
...I had almost cut my ties with ''the club''.

For months in 'The Club' I avoided all men - and the week I announce I'm leaving, I fall, and now I think I'm going to stay. Shit. [I will refer to this club as 'the club' for my identity's sake]
Ok so as I said before in the last post, he knew who I was, he added me on facebook, I accepted simply because we had mutual friends and it was clear he was a member of 'the club', even though I'd never knowingly met him. So he talks to me at the ball and offers to help me out with something, and I have to ask who the fuck he is and then am embarrassed to find out that really, I should know as I accepted him on facebook. ANYWAY all that aside, me thinking he might like me, and me starving for male attention more than any other nourishment, I decided to pursue it, just for some kicks, maybe more... so I message him on facebook... and the messages run back and forth a little... and it seems that there may be something there... he seems keen to see me again at 'the club'... he sends me his number... and we progress to texts... and it seems even more likely... he invites me to an event the club is holding...
And so now I really like him. Basically. You know how I get obsessed? Yeah, obsessed.
But now I can't quit the club. He's offered to help me out with something related to the club and more importantly, he's invited me to go to his house to do it. (Fuck! We've only had one really short conversation face to face which was at the ball two weeks ago!)
So why was I so happy and motivated on Thursday? He'd sent that text the night before: ''I can give you a hand... if you like... you could come here''
But it means I can't quit 'the club'. Shit, shit, shit.
So now I'm obsessed with this guy and can't escape this club which is soaking up valuable time which should be spent on law studies!
And I can't even go to his house until the new year because he's away for Christmas.
So I'm just left here stewing.

HOWEVER. As I have said before, having a mission to get a certain guy is the absolute best motivation for losing weight. Skinny, skinny, SKINNY! I have to be skinny when I go to his house. Oh my God, I am going to ring his doorbell and knock him dead. I am going to be the hottest thing he has ever opened the door to. I am going to look the best I have ever done; the best I know I can be.
Well, the best I can be in two weeks.
And fuck the fact that it's Christmas and I'm supposed to get fat.
Fuck the fact that the last three Christmas's I ballooned with an extra stone of weight.
Fuck all the food my mum has stuffed the kitchen full of, all the shit that is going be lining the plates and stomachs of the nation this holiday season is not going anywhere near my sacred mouth.
I'm going to be the only person losing weight.
And as God is my witness, I sure as hell can do it.
This is my addictive game - and my God I love playing it: Get the guy. Be thin. Be beautiful. Be irresistible. W-I-N.
I will drown for him. And in two weeks, when I reach the bottom, I will go to him with hungry lips and my head held high.

It is impossible to win the victory unless you dare to battle.
Let the battle commence...
Ophelia v Christmas

Monday, 14 December 2009


I think this has been the longest I have been away.
Or it feels like the longest...
A combination of event planning, essays, job - and an overwhelming sediment of stagnant weight - are my excuses for abandoning you all - and I am aware that they should not be excuses. I haven't posted, I haven't read, I haven't commented and I haven't replied - but I will do better, so please forgive me.

In my last post I told you that I was being interviewed for a waitressing job - and I did indeed get the job - much to my joy and relief. I've done a couple of shifts so far and apart from my first night when I broke about 20 glasses and dropped cream cheese down a guest's jacket, it's been ok. The only downside is the food... every night the waiting staff get to eat all the leftovers - and there's a lot of leftovers, and it's all ridiculously incredible.
I have never found it so hard to resist food.
I'm not talking the urge you get for a midnight bread binge... I'm talking staving, having been working on your feet for the past four hours, and then presented with mouth-watering first class food - for free. So I eat. And it tastes so good. Seriously good.
I don't even turn my nose up at it or torture myself about eating it. It's that good.

So I need to sort it out.

In other news the ball I was running for 'The Club' was a massive success, and it feels so great to have it out of the way. It gave me no end of stress in the run up, but in the end everything went perfectly and felt so proud at pulling off something so big on my own.
I also met some guys at the ball who caught my eye. One in particular - D. Well, I say I met him at the ball, but I actually sort of knew him before, I just wasn't really aware of it and didn't really care... We are part of the same 'Club' and he added me on facebook about a month ago, but I didn't really think much or it, or really know who he was... I get a few friend requests from people there who seem to know me as I have a quite prominent position.
So anyway, I sort of recognised him when he came to speak to me at the ball, but then had the embarrassment of asking his name... and then denied that he was my facebook friend when he told me that he was... so, as you can imagine, that looked really good.
So been messaging him a bit since, and who knows...

I really should be writing so much more than this... my last two weeks have been so eventful...
but I should be focusing on my studies, should be focusing on books, law, tutorials, lectures... and I can't...
something is missing in me... the passion has been put out... except the passion in my anger - I keep losing my temper so horrifically, the knife has been back out, the tears have been impossible to hold in...
I think it's just stress more than anything - and an inability to control my food. I haven't even been trying, just eating, throwing up, slashing my arms and sitting in my room thinking.
The only thing with starving is that it doesn't hurt enough. I need pain. If starving felt as good as self harm I'd be a pile of bones... but there's not enough sensation in it. When I lose my temper and want to punish myself I cut or I shovel food inside me and throw up. I need to find some other outlet for my emotions that's not food or scars.... something that won't make me fatter and something that isn't visible to others...

I don't seem to have a future right now, although it's all I dream of.
and food fills the hole
but I hate food.
More than anything
more than the gaping gap in my chest.

I'm very aware that there's only one way out now.

in the mean time, I'd like to introduce you to one of the sweetest girls on the network: Flabby-J

Sunday, 29 November 2009

"...I want a perfect body; I want a perfect soul."

I've been wanting to write for days now.
But it's all been quite depressing.
And everything I wanted to write about... has somehow disappeared from my head...
All I know is that I feel quite dead.

This week is going to be hell.
Quite simply, full on, full throttle, burning hell.

Ok. I've got to submit my first assessment next Monday - one week away. Ok. That's ok, you know, it's ok. A week is ages. I used to knock out essays in a day at uni. I know my topic, I know what I have to do, I just have to do it. And I will. Fuck the rest of the shit in my life.
Perhaps more than anything I want to prove a point. Ask any member of my class who the least intelligent person is and I guarantee every single one would say me (yes I know I have an inferiority complex/paranoia anyway but I still think they genuinely believe this.) And I know it's my fault that they and my tutors all probably think this - because of the way I act/talk/look. (None of the girls in my class wear any makeup - well ONE wears eyeliner - and I always make a massive effort to look my best, even though it's a conscious effort to look casual and studenty...arghhh jeans).
Anyway. At school I used to be top of my class in every subject, from art to science, and I damn well know there is no reason why I should not be top of my class in law school. In fact I SHOULD be top of my class. (and I cannot believe I am here on this blog when I should be studying!! kick me.)

But that has nothing to do with why this week is going to be hell, really, aside from the fact that I need to be spending every second working on that essay. Basically. I am fucking H-U-G-E right now. All weekend, all I have done is eat and throw up shitloads of bread. over, and over, and over... I am puffed up like a balloon and my tummy sticks out three miles. I look like a serious fat person. So... so... gym every day and no food. Fuck everything. I cannot eat. I will not ruin EVERYTHING. But on Tuesday I have an assessment day/training for a part time job as a waitress. AND I NEED THIS JOB. If I don't get it... well... failure... is not something I can handle - at all. And I've got to go in a white shirt and black trousers - basically two items of clothing I simply cannot wear without tearing at myself in the mirror - so I need to be thin - and I'm not thin - but I need to look great - because I need to be confident - because I must get this job - and, oh my god, I'm so frightened. I simply cannot fail. I'll rip myself to shreds if I do... I know I cannot control myself.
That aside I've also been organising a ball which is taking place this friday. Money and budget and setting up has all gone to shit and well, I really don't have the time or the sanity to be dealing with it. But I must. Not to mention that that's the whole of Friday and Saturday where I can't work on my precious essay. FUCK. And I'll still be fat having to host everyone and smile and fit in. I mean really, just my idea of HELL.
(Not to mention that it's my college christmas party thing this Wednesday - I bought a ticket, but there's no way I'm going now - because the rest of the week is stressful enough without me spending 6 hours trying (and failing) to find a dress that does not make me look fat, then trying to make myself look pretty, then getting drunk and binging till I collapse because some guy wasn't there/I couldn't fit in/my friends left me/ I break down like a lunatic.)

I can't believe I'm so fat.

This hell is all my fault.

To top it off all the depressing thoughts/suicidal daydreams have been coming back. But I know I won't die, I'll just suffer and be humiliated for being so disgusting.

But I may as well try. Laxatives, No food. Treadmill, bike, crosstrainer and resistance machines everyday. I guarantee God won't let it kill me, I bet I don't even faint.
I must torture myself all day tomorrow to deflate the tummy by Tuesday. It will be done.
And then burn/starve off as much as I can by Friday so I'm not a laughing stock.
And work on my essay at every spare moment.
Fuck everything, fuck everyone. I will fix this.


Saturday, 21 November 2009

Vicarious sensation

Little sparks of happiness...
from an ashen grey wreckage...
my world...
Yes there are bright little sparks sometimes which jolt sensation back into my fingertips.

When I finally found the courage to go back to law school this week after over a week of hiding away, I felt foolish.
It was fabulous to be back.
Fabulous because I was just normal. I just forgot about my eating.
I chatted and laughed, saw my friends again, felt emotion again and wasn’t alone anymore.

I don’t have to be alone and miserable. Behind the fastened doors of my silent home is an incredibly vibrant world. Living. Every time I need to get somewhere in the City of London, I walk. Just to fall in love with the spirited streets, the structures, the history, the visions, the pulse. Breathtaking. But I admire the sights on my own – because I prefer it that way.

I was 17 when, as a heart-broken teenager waiting for him to text me back, I fell in love with the City.
I stepped off the train at 09:30 and disappeared.
It was so liberating.
The best thing about London is that you can never fit in, you can never stand out, you can never exist in a crowd.

I have always been alone – so much so, that my loneliness is a comfort. When I feel upset, I have never desired to be with friends or be cheered up. I would hate it. I crave to be alone. I always do everything and go everywhere on my own. I always have done. I’ve never needed or wanted a friend or companion. If you wanted to put a spin on it, I guess you would call me independent and self-reliant. If you wanted to be cruel, I guess you would call me a loner.

But I can still act when I need to. And you’d think I was the most bubbly, social diva in the room.
I wouldn’t say I’m happier on my own necessarily, but I certainly feel safer. The world is so threatening. I have so much fear… of other people – and what they think of me. On my own I don’t have to put on makeup, or do my hair, or get dressed even. I can just exist. No threats, no fear, no feelings – good or bad.

I’ve started reading Anna Karenina – I can’t believe I’ve never read it before – it’s so beautiful.
I need escapism
because I need beauty
– and I find so little in my real life.
Although I am now studying to be a lawyer, I did my degree in English Literature for a very good reason: I love it.
“Aesthetic enthusiasm. Perception of beauty in the external world, or, on the other hand, in words and their right arrangement. Pleasure in the impact of one sound on another, in the firmness of good prose or the rhythm of a good story. Desire to share an experience which one feels is valuable and ought not to be missed.”
I love getting lost in the world of beautiful women, tortured, in love – being in the presence of epic, tragic heroines, caught in surging poetry and flowing narrative.

Living vicariously. That’s what I have always done, ever since I was a little girl. I read obsessively to escape. Nothing makes me happier.
And old movies…I watched Hitchcock's Rebecca last night. I adore old movies; where men all have chiselled jaw lines and strong features, and all the women are so immaculate and graceful. The Golden Era; The Beautiful World…
...My head is so full of it.
If you took it away from me, I’d never survive.

I’ve been patchy and frustrated this week.
My body is craving exercise, and I’ve been stuck at home this weekend (like every weekend) – with my mum – and with food.
It’s simply unbearable. Just my fat body sitting here in this room, all weekend, being fed.
I’ve finally found a gym in London that I can afford – so I’m joining on Monday and intend to go at every spare moment – every weekday hopefully as I can’t get away from this house on weekends. I’ve been missing my gym at university so much. I go running and do toning exercises still, but it’s not the same. I miss the days where I would run until the counter told me I had burnt 800 calories, feel the blood burning in my toned arms and run my hands across my alabaster thighs. Yes. I need to get back to that. Endorphins.
I’m joining first thing on Monday. I can’t wait. I need my body to love me again. I need to get high on treadmills and swimming pools. Such happiness, such bliss, my body will love me.

Also I’m ready for a water fast. Starting intensive workouts and a fast is probably not a wise combo… but, I think I can manage it for…six days. That’s enough to let my body heal and detox - enough to make it love me again. Then I’ll get back on some fruit and veg.

“Nothing tastes as good as skinny feels”. We all know she misquoted it a bit, but we sure as hell all know she’s right.

I live for sensation.

Monday, 16 November 2009

All the way

You guys are so kind.
Always - always - your comments mean so much to me.
Never in a million years did I think...

But it's been a bad week. I didn't go into college once.
This is not university anymore. I'm doing the law conversion course. I can't just take a week off because I feel fat and ugly.
But I...
I know I can't go in when I am. And I am. I am fat and ugly.
I couldn't bear to have to walk into that lecture theatre with everyones eyes on my fat thighs in jeans and then sit in the library where anyone can walk past and see my chubby and blotchy face. They'd all see me. My friends. M.
Fuck M. Why the HELL do I have to have feelings for him?!
I couldn't go into college because I was so scared he'd see me. I was so terrified he'd see how fat and ugly I was. So I hid away for a week and missed all my lectures. What-the-absolute-fuck-is-wrong-with-me!
... oh... yeah...

And now I have fresh red lines on my arms and I'm even fatter after eating this week. Well done Ophelia - really made use of that time hiding away.

I have to go into college this week. I have to.
Oh my God
I am not brave enough.
I don't have the courage to walk into that lecture theatre. I can't live with that fear that I'm going to walk into Mark around the next corner. I can't face the panic attacks when I see him in the library. I can't face my friends - who think I've been ill - I can't face them and be smiley and happy and normal.

It's just fear again.
All because of the way I look.
And I can't find the courage to walk out the door.
Even after the wonderful dinner night, knowing this is the thinnest and best I've looked in so long... It's still... not good enough... I AM STILL TOO FAT.
All my feelings and emotions are still channelled as violently as ever into my hatred of the way I look - because I know I should still be ashamed.

I am too old for this. I know. I shouldn't be playing this game anymore. I need to get better.
But I've tried all the safe routes, I've tried dieting with a healthy mind - and it kept me fat.
So I'm playing the only way I know how - the only way that has ever worked - the only way I can combat the fear.
I can't be normal, I can't eat normally, I can't do it because I fail, miserably, miserably.
I've got to stop pretending that I can wake up in the morning with a smile on my face and get on with my day happily. It's never going to happen. I smile in the morning when I wake up starving and I stand in front of my mirror and run my hands across my flat stomach and feel my ribs and hipbones. BEING THIN. Then I can leave the house and go to college, and study, and have friends, and flirt with guys: Then I can be alive.
Nothing else matters. Nothing else can matter. Nothing else will ever matter - until I am thin.

I need to turn up the velocity. I need to become truly devoted. NO MORE FEAR. This is full on war now. I will beat my body into submission. I will set myself free from it. I will live.
It may kill me, but the last remaining shred of sanity has to go. I can't try and stay healthy anymore because it's holding me back. I'm going all the way; the only way.

There's no saving me.
I will have to starve my body for the rest of my life so that I can live my life.
And I will be so happy.

Sunday, 8 November 2009


A narrative of the last few days…

So Friday was the big day. I went back to my university town for the Annual Dinner Night of my old society. All present members and all alumni – all my best friends, all my old lovers, and the place that made and broke my reputation.

Thursday: all I ate all day were two sweets.
And I only ate them because M offered them to me on two separate occasions in the library.
(M – the law school guy I can’t stop myself from being besotted with.)
I was convinced that I looked terrible that day so I hid in the library at law school during our break. I hadn’t seen M all week, but that day, I left my desk for two minutes and returned to find he had sat himself two seats away. I was mortified and pretended not to see him… although from that point on I found it impossible to concentrate on my books…
He spoke to me first, and obviously when he offered me a sweet I couldn’t say no for fear of looking weird / seeming rude.

Anyway, straight after my day at college was over I went rushing round Oxford Street in search of a new dress for the dinner the following day. I chose a beautiful blue silk dress in a Grecian style – it was absolutely stunning – and I couldn’t believe how much weight I had lost. Despite not eating anything all day I was absolutely buzzing and full of energy. It felt glorious, so empty, no sense of hunger, so triumphant – no I wasn’t all bones yet, but I was getting there.

Friday: still not hungry.
I didn’t eat again all day and couldn’t help but smile at my obviously baggy jeans. (I had previously thought my thighs were immune to weight loss!) Obviously once I was at the dinner I had to eat the meal, but it wasn’t too bad calorie wise. (Although I probably had about twice as much calories in wine and alcohol).
And I can’t believe I’m going to say this, I can’t believe it, but, I looked great! I actually liked what I saw in the mirror. I made everyone sit up and look.
The words were on their lips: Ophelia won.
And I knew it,
I had won.
Not one single guy in that room was good enough for me. It was no longer the other way round. I no longer felt like a fat, horrible piece of shit. I was out of their league. And they fucking knew it.

Of course this was just towards the lowlife guys and bitchy girls that had always belittled me. The best thing about the night was being with my genuine, old friends again. It was so nice to leave behind the pressures of my friendships at law school where I have to be so fake.

The number of calories I consumed that evening was probably about the same as the total calories I had eaten in the last three weeks. Which is scary and terrible… but, it’s done. Now I must focus on losing more weight and looking even better for this life in London. The people at uni saw I won. I can close that chapter triumphantly. Now I have more important challenges ahead of me to win.

I spent so long trying to find happiness. I know I’ve said it over and over, but I spent three years at uni longing to be beautiful and thin. I was never ugly compared to the other girls and I was never fat according to statistics, but I knew I could be better. I tortured myself with bulimia because I couldn’t and wouldn’t give up that dream. I had to wait a long time, but now, finally I have had the strength to go back to ana.

Honestly, I don’t care what all these people preach. It’s all lies.
They say being thin doesn’t make you happy. IT DOES.
They say restricting and fasting doesn’t work. IT DOES.
I haven’t been so happy in a long, long time. I’m full of energy and vitality. I feel confident and I know I look better. Eating food makes me unhappy, filling my body with horrible, unhealthy things, makes me unhappy.

I have an eating disorder. But I’m not ill and I’m not going to die: I’m just going to get the happiness I deserve.
So never let go of that dream, never let go of that belief that you deserve better, that you can be everything you want to be. Yes, you have to work hard and no, it’s not easy. There are times when I feel so cold and so hungry and it is shit. It really is shit. Half the posts on this blog are testament to how terrible it can be.
But putting on that beautiful dress, walking into that room, knowing that you look the best you have ever done… it’s the most incredible feeling in the world, and it’s priceless.
I don’t kid myself, my BMI is still in the 20s. I can still lose so much more weight and I can still look so much better. I know it’s gonna be hard, but it’s so worth it. I want to walk into EVERY room, EVERY day, in ANY state of dress and have that feeling.

Saturday, 31 October 2009

Heading towards the light

It has, generally, been a very good week. I averaged at about 600 calories every day. Well, until last night and today – where I hit about 2000 in some relief binging – or whatever. Yes I am pissed off at myself. But no, I am not going to binge and moan and binge some more. I had a good week. Overall.
I had a week off from law school so I was on a work experience placement at a law firm in my favourite part of the City. Oh I had forgotten how wonderful it is to feel hungry!! Constantly fighting away that constant twist inside with a smile of delight.
Oh my God I’m shrinking! Visibly - I can see it!
I went right back to the glorious days when I was 15 - exactly the same diet - Half a sandwich at lunch, half a sandwich at dinner, and a piece of chicken/fish with vegetables/fruit. Gloriiiiiious!
I can't believe it, I'm finally getting back to the way I once was.

So yes, today I ate – two whole actual meals – and biscuits – and then threw up twice. Now I was NOT bulimic when I was 15 – I never, ever ate enough - so clearly I’m not completely back to the good old days yet – (isn’t it weird how I need to regress to progress). But you know, progress IS being made. Oh my God.
I keep running my hands over my body, feeling the bones, beautiful, beautiful bones, resurfacing again. Oh my God I AM going to get there.
I was sitting in my jeans yesterday and they were SO baggy around the crotch area – I couldn’t believe it! I pulled the waistband and was astonished – it didn’t sit snugly anymore.

Monday sees me return to college… and the beautiful boy will be there.
He hasn’t left my thoughts since we were out last Thursday. It’s annoying and ridiculous because I know I’m just convincing myself that I am crazy about him now. And these feelings are not good. Not, not good. Although… it does make me want to lose more weight… faster.
Damn. I don’t want to see him. Why oh why do I have to like him?! Nothing’s even happened and I’m already stressed and miserable!

And Friday – well, Friday…
On Friday I will return to University for a Dinner Night with my old society. We had a Dinner Night every year and all the old graduates would return to see everyone– so now it’s time for my old graduated face to return.
I’m excited obviously. I’m going to see all my best friends from uni and get to catch up with what they’ve been doing, but most importantly, I want to go to show everyone how well I’m doing. I want them to see a successful, stunning girl, living the life in London. Moved on from them and their binge drinking and eating, moved on from the slimy boys and slutty girls, moved on to something better, something thinner, something more sensational. Ha. I am such a little-miss-stuck-up-bitch. What nice person thinks like this? And of course many of my old lovers will be there – and clearly it is very, very important that their eyes pop out of their heads when they see me. I want them to see just how far out of their league I am now.
Because it’s true: I have moved on. I’m very happy now I’m back in London, now I’m on a good track, moving towards a good career, with good people, good routine, good vibes, good vision. At uni, I was just a messed up, self-loathing bulimic stumbling through each day. And I really fucked up. I could never have been in control and restricting like this at uni. It was just too fucked up there.

Anyway. I want to lose half a stone by Friday.
I know, insane right. But, if I eat like 200ish calories a day or less until then, it could be done… right? Man, all I know is that I’m a stone lighter than when I left uni.
…HOLY CRAP did you hear that?!? I’m a stone lighter than when I was at the last Dinner Night earlier this year.
I mean that’s amazing, really, but… it’s not enough. I want another half a stone gone in a week. And I will starve until I faint and use laxatives until I crumble with pain if that’s what it takes.

Because I will turn up at that Dinner Night and make people see: Ophelia Won.

Darling girls and boys. Believe. Have faith. STAY STRONG. Because we sure as hell can win this battle. I genuinely didn’t believe I’d beat the binging and purging.
I predicted in April… ‘In November the rain is grey…’
I didn’t think I’d ever get back to bones and happiness.
But I’m fucking getting there. It’s November tomorrow and there’s no grey. Its going to be very, very L-I-G-H-T :)

Ophelia x x x

Saturday, 24 October 2009

Too much voltage

I’ve fallen for the most beautiful guy.
And nothing hurts more.
I’ve still got the scars from the last time I fell… all the times I have fallen.
My heart is aching - more than the tearing muscles in my over-exercised legs.

I hate it when I have feelings for a guy. There is simply nothing worse. Whenever I like a guy – every time I like a guy – it means heartache, insecurity, tears, binging, self-harm, anxiety, despair.
In other words, for me, men are synonymous with pain.
All the worst periods of my life – those darkest, bleakest times where I prayed I wouldn’t wake up in the morning – came off the back of heartbreak.

I keep trying to put him out of my head. It’s ridiculous that I like him. It’s ridiculous that I have NO control over my emotions. How can my heart govern my senses so completely?

He’s half Japanese, half English - Eurasian like me, but with more tan and unbelievably incredible green eyes. He’s a petite guy – so not most girls cup of tea – but to me… well… how can I put it…
I was standing in the queue with my friends waiting to get into a posh club in London, and suddenly I see him crossing the road towards us: And my jaw dropped.

Never in my whole life has my jaw dropped at the sight of a guy – and I’ve been with some stunners. He simply took my breath away. There’s something so irresistible about him to me – and just me.
All I wanted to do was kiss him. I wanted to feel the rush of the electricity when two charged sparks connected.
My God, it hurts.

He’s in my lecture group and obviously I’ve spoken to him before and was attracted to him since we met. But last night was just too much voltage – my emotions were scorching– I fell so completely – old wounds burning.

And now I have to be conscious that he’s around every day I’m in college.
And I have to look great.
Even if he doesn’t like me.
ESPECIALLY if he doesn’t like me.

And he will never like me.

I can tell you the story now, even before I come back to this blog in tears to write it:
He turns me down, he avoids me, he pulls another girl I know, he doesn’t like me, doesn’t want me. Not me, not me, not me - never me.

I'm shrinking at a good, steady pace but I can't afford to let a guy make me lose control and binge. I'm pretty, but I'm not beautiful. Most of my podge has gone, but I'm not skinny. I may look good compared to average girls, but my thighs are still far too muscular, my butt is as round as Marylin Monroe's, my upper arms are actually still fat, my face is still round, and I still have about 30 pounds to lose! You need to be a waif to pull off TRUE glamour. I want to be one of the sensational, stunning London girls, striding through the classiest clubs all long limbs, cheekbones and flowing hair.
I am never going to let anyone stand in my way of that goal. I cannot have feelings for this guy. I have got to let go of all my weaknesses. He is a weakness. All men are a weakness. I will not let my body fall victim to the abuse of men. You can't let emotions rule you if you want to be successful. Men have always distracted me, kept me unbalanced and unhappy - they kept me unfocused and unable to control myself.

Someone can only hurt you if you have feelings for them.
I’ve fallen, against my will.
Instead of buzzing with happiness and excitement, I feel cold and sad and sick inside from fear.
I fell.
I’m waiting for the aching desire to turn to hollow pain.

I’m waiting for him to hurt me.


P.S. Thanks for all the supportive comments on the last post. It was so comforting to know so many of you understood. I am trying to get back to all of you, bear with me. You guys are my lifeline in a world where I have to be so fake to fit in.


Thursday, 15 October 2009

Dear Non-ED (a.k.a. 'normal') Friends...

So, it appears that the girls at law school still count me as a friend after my excessive drunkenness last week.
But friends - female friends - they come at such a price for the eating disordered...

I'm at the college all day, everyday - a lecture first thing in the morning and a workshop last thing in the afternoon - which means that we have a four-hour break in the middle.
Since my very first day I've spent these four-hour breaks with a bunch of girls in my lecture group - and while they are really nice and I'm so grateful beyond belief that I made friends so quickly, it's a MASSIVE struggle for me.
Having an eating disorder is so easy when you spend most of your time by yourself - no-one gives a damn if you ate and no-one knows any better if you did or you didn't. Having an eating disorder is shit when you have to pretend to be all smiley and normal all day long. It's shit when you have to spend lunchtime with your 'friends' who constantly talk about food, love going out to buy food, love getting nice things to eat, etc, etc. It's shit when everyday they eat and you can't/won't. It's shit, shit, shit.
Now, I could just sit on my own during this four-hour break - go out and walk or something - but then I'd have no friends. I either have an easy, untroubled anorexic life without friends OR put on a lying mask of happy pretence and have good friends.

So I told you in my last post that I admitted to one of these girls that I was bulimic after I drunkenly shoved my fingers down my throat in the middle of the street to make myself sick (an almost unconscious reflex action for me now whenever I have stuff inside my stomach). Well she hasn't said anything to me about it since, and likewise I haven't said anything more to her.
Did she tell the others? I don't know. I just have to trust and hope that she didn't.
But she did say at the time, that she had thought I had an ED because I never ate at lunch. So, do the other girls have suspicions too? I don't know. But there isn't really any way I can pretend to eat every day, so, let them think what they want.

Today, during the lunchtime conversation, one girl began talking about the sister of her friend and described her as 'really anorexic'. And of course everyone was just like "omg, why don't they just eat, I'd never do that," blah blah blah, and the girl went on on to say, her friend had said "Yeah I had anorexia, but at least I was 14 not 20!"
"Exactly, I mean come on, anorexic when you're 20? God how pathetic!"
I sat through this whole conversation starting at my book. I was gripping it so hard my knuckles were white.
I'm 22.
You're fucking telling me that it's not socially acceptable to have an eating disorder when you're an adult?! It's ok when you're young and silly, and it's 'just a phase' is that it?! Just a phase?! Oh, how pathetic that you're so stupid to have anorexia when you're so old!

If I had any balls I'd have stood up and defended all the girls and young women like me, the people who read this blog and whose blogs I follow, women who I love and respect, who have to deal with stupid fucking prejudices like that.
But I just sat there
Staring at the page
With white knuckles.


I just want to be thin.

Dear Non-ED (a.k.a. 'normal') Friends,
It must be really nice to be happy with your 'womanly' hips and your soft belly.
I'm genuinely very happy for you.
I don't hate you for it. I accept it.
- So why do you 'normal' girls hate anorexics so much?
- Why can't you just be happy for me how I am?

Saturday, 10 October 2009

Irresponsible post.

It was the Fresher's Party for my law school a few days ago.

You can already tell I fucked it up can't you.

I got drunk. I mean annihilated. Threw up everywhere.
My new friends... superficial friends - don't like girls that behave like me.
I told a girl I was bulimic - after I had to stick two fingers down my throat outside a new London club to get the liquid poison out.
"I could tell," she said, "You never eat."
I'd be amazed if those girls are still friendly with me on Monday.
I hadn't planned on acting like trash, but I hadn't eaten for days and my starving body couldn't take the alcohol
...and as standard, drunk and blacked out from sickness, without a sensation in my body, I ate and ate and ate - until I thought my heart was going to stop - but I wasn't scared.

Holly yes, I do believe. I've done it before. I'm doing it again. Stay with me. Be strong, you deserve happiness.

The pretty, paper mask is crumbling.

But it's so easy to avoid eating. I don't miss it and I don't desire it.
I get up at 7:30am, leave at 8:30am, avoid food all day, come home at 7pm and throw away the food my mum leaves me for dinner. Whenever I feel a tingle of hunger I look at the calorie numbers and it goes away. I don't need food. I don't want that disgusting shit in my body.
I actually don't need food.

It's such a fucking con.
We. Don't. Need. Food.

Eating disorders kill.

It feels like I'm just waiting now.

Sunday, 4 October 2009

I'm fine

I'm trying so desperately to be normal.
I've started a new life...with new surroundings...
and a new me
...a new me which is a fabrication
a lie
a wish
...everything I want to be.

I've had a couple of full days at law school now.
A nice, pleasant, friendly girl.
Very NICE.

I am the girl whose scars you cannot see,
I am the girl who won't eat in front of you,
I am the girl who desperately wants to pull out her pocket mirror every 5 minutes
but struggles to keep the monster at bay,

because I don't want anyone to know she exists.
I don't want to be the girl with the disorder.
I don't want to be the monster.

My body is the weakest it has been in a long time.
I'm not sure how much longer it can take.
It's scary, but I have to be realistic. I'm fucking fragile right now. I press my hands to my forehead and I can feel my cold skull breaking through my papery skin.
I can't eat tomorrow.
I almost fainted throwing up today.
And then I ate. about 2000 calories.
I won't eat tomorrow and I won't even feel hungry.
I won't sleep.
I'll walk 6 miles. I'll do 100 sit-ups.
Keep going. I won't stop.
Working, writing, making notes in pretty colours, asking questions in class with a massive smile on my face because I'm the nice, normal girl in your class at law school.

Hello, my name is Ophelia...

I'm fine...
how are you?

Sunday, 27 September 2009

Pretty red beads bloom around my arms;
A chain,
Which I can never cut through
Never deep enough -
I just Maintain
Lord Mirror - The King -
Everyday I kneel
Before a cold ceramic ring
with a bottomless pool reflection.
False idol, you would never tell me lies -
I choke
on the ashes of your face;
And bleed
by the daggers of your eyes.
-You have such pretty eyes-
Glass vision
never falters
always staring me back down
because you know I’ll never break you back
Even when it all goes black.

Thursday, 24 September 2009

Law School

I have returned from my overseas travels, sunburnt and pimply... yuck. Ok so I'm only sunburt on my shoulders and have like 3 spots but still, really, really not what I needed for my first day of law school.
How was it?
Better than expected to tell you the truth.
I had this image that everyone one there would be really intelligent, really boring and really aloof, but actually everyone I met seemed really nice and down-to-earth. I met two girls at the start who were really lovely and I hope I stay friends with them for the rest of the year, we seemed to have a lot in common. Of course there are loads of beautiful, thin girls in my lecture group, but not overwhelmingly so, like I had imagined.
In my class there are two pretty girls, one ugly large girl and the rest are average... (I know I'm a superficial bitch describing people this way.) There are two - maybe three - attractive guys, but none of them hit me in the face saying w-o-w, and that's probably a good thing as the last thing I want to do is get involved with a guy in my class.
All in all, I'm probably average weight at law school. At uni I was probably at the prettier end of the scale but here I'm probably average in looks as well - which is better than what I had feared that everyone would be absolutely stunning.
My eating is staying low at the moment and I can't complain too much... I'm not as fat as I could be right now. However, I still can't fit into 90% of my wardrobe - or rather 90% of my wardrobe is unflattering and I will only wear when I'm thin enough... don't ask... I just can't wear it...
So anyway, I think the eating should be staying low while I'm here because I'm out all day and keeping busy and won't have money to buy meals in London, so the plan is breakfast (bowl of porridge made with water), a banana at lunch, and then some fruit/veg/meat/nothing? in the evening when I come home.
I'm feeling quite positive at the moment, I don't know why. Even though I'm still way off the mark and am so not thin enough, I feel like I'm getting there. I'm just not going to let any shit get in my way. There is no room for depression in my life. As far as everyone in my lectures and classes knows, I am a normal, happy, healthy girl, and I'm not going to stuff that up. Believe it or not, I actually want to be normal more than anything. I'm not going to let any guy or girl make me feel shit and make me hate myself. I'm not going to have an eating disorder that is bred from unhappiness anymore. I am going to be a happy and normal girl with no issues. No more issues, no more illness. I'm just going to be anorexic so that I can feel even more happy and even more confident. From now on, my eating disorder will be bred from good things, for good reasons - starving because I feel happy and strong and because I want to better myself even more. That is not an issue :)

Monday, 14 September 2009

the other side of the world

I've been in Malaysia for the last week and am in Bangkok and Singapore for another week.
This is the first time I've had internet here in my hotel in Bangkok... even now, posting this I feel like a stranger to my blog, to this world...
I've been trying to restrict but it's been impossible.
I feel so ... lost ...
I've been visiting my mum's family (regular readers will know she's one of the tiny, doll-like, asian breed).

It's all so hard and confusing... this head.

But I haven't binged since I've been here (because all my food has been served up/chosen for me, and I haven't thrown up because I haven't had a single moment of privacy. (Even as I write this my Mum is lying on the bed behind me).

I guess it's ok out here, no one really knows me. My family members here will become forgotten and alien again to me when I fly back to my life on the other side of the world.

And yet when I do go back home, I know it will be worse than before.
I'm so afraid now.
So afraid of starting law school, and knowing that all my insecurities are going to become unbearable again, at the highest they can be, in a new place, with new people, who I'll be desperate to impress, desperate to be thinnest, prettiest, best. I can't take it. And I can't make it. I haven't made it.
It's just this horror all over again. Hating having to walk out of the door, hating having to walk into class. Looking. So. Horrible.

There's another world out there.
I love you guys. I want Ana to take me home.

* * *

EDIT: My Mum fell asleep so I binged on about 20 dried prunes covered in some thick, sticky sugary substance, three little parcels of Dodol (seriously sticky stuff) and three mini moon cakes (Chinese cakes). When I threw up some of the thin white noodles I ate for lunch (about 9 hours ago) came up - that's some seriously indigestible pasta.
(And now I'm sitting locked in the toilet writing this... what the hell!)
So, I made it 10 days in total without a binge and purge before I cracked. Longest time since... last year?!

Anyway, sorry for the depressing tirade above. I think I feel a terrible tummy bug coming on (all this Thai food... thought that place today looked a bit dodgy...) "I feel so ill I simply couldn't eat a bite Mum."

Stay skinny my loves!
x x x

Monday, 31 August 2009

Home is where the fast is

I am finally home.
My unhappy sanctuary.
I have come home for the last time.

I used to pack my bags on Thursday afternoons when I was at university and get the cheap train home for a long weekend. It was worth the hassle and the long journey just to have a house to shut myself up in alone – a house where things were ordered and sober – where there were no men; no threats, no temptations. Home was the only place where I could cover up my body beneath a thick duvet and forget that it existed.

It was a difficult two weeks at camp as you can no doubt tell from my last post. I got away at most mealtimes with just eating vegetables and fruit. There were many arguments as usual, but I give up now… I have yet to meet anyone (in the flesh) who understands and supports my desire to better myself. Perfection, to everyone I know, seems to be a mere fiction in a world that proudly accepts its disgusting self. If it weren’t for this blog, my followers, commenters, I would never be able to believe in myself.
I lost my temper a lot on camp.
Usually when I lose my temper I self-harm or binge eat to take my anger out on myself. This time I just flipped out at people. In fairness, they completely deserved to be shouted at because of the things they said about me, but it was completely out of character for me, and I worry when I do things out of character.

I think that on this camp, for the first time, I was able to start to see how other people saw me… and it wasn’t nice… They misunderstood me to be a self-obsessed and annoying air-head… and it really hurt.

On a plus note, I have left university and all my affiliations with it. Those people who knew me don’t matter at all. I don’t care what they think. I know that I am moving on to something better. I am shedding this skin and becoming unrecognisable. Nothing about my past matters anymore. None of their opinions matter. I’ve handed in my kit and taken my final train to London; to home; where I am staying and living and creating a new and better life.

I cracked on the last night of camp. Drank three bottles.
Went back to my room early before the others got back and opened up all the food I had stashed away from the field exercise that week. Toffee pudding, chocolate bars, biscuits and crisps. I deserved this pain. I didn’t even stick my fingers down my throat. I just ate, and swallowed, and shut my eyes.
At the train station I lost it again. I ate two chocolate bars, a packet of biscuits, a large packet of nuts and a cheeseburger and chips.
I don’t know why: don’t ask me why.
Within minutes I found myself locked in the public toilets at the train station bending over a foul-smelling toilet throwing up as much of it as I could. I think I got most of it up, but not the chocolate.

My body doesn’t feel hunger or fullness anymore. It doesn’t feel anything. It’s all numb inside. Food consumption is controlled by my brain: the stronger part, the weaker part, the part I hate, the part I can’t remember or control.
I’m sorry body, I’m sorry for putting so much shit inside of you.
I was so strong for two weeks only to crumble so magnificently at the end. And for what? Did I just miss bulimia? Did I just miss binging and purging? After all, it’s the only thing my body understands.
But the chaotic life that went with that chaotic eating is over now.
Home is no longer just a rescue or a quick fix spa break away from bodily torture. Home is my future, my base, my foundation – upon which all my prospects are based and will grow.
I can be fully grounded and focused on the things that matter and the things that are truly important to me.
I spent three years at university as a crazy, emotional, obsessive, drunken, party-loving, flirty, uncontrollable bulimic.
I’ve got a lot of wounds to heal.

I’m going on ‘holiday’ on Friday. I will explain why I use that term loosely in my next post.
My body feels gross. All the shit inside me. I am repulsive.
I have four days of just water until Friday. I know you can never drown in four days of water; I wish I had time to fast for longer.
But four days will have to do for now.

This thinspo is dedicated to Holly. If you're reading, I hope you are ok. I've just started watching Skins 3 on 4OD online. I understand why you loved Effy x x x

Sunday, 16 August 2009


I'm on Camp.
Somewhere in some bleak, uninhabited part of rural Northern England.
Just under two weeks to go...
I meant to post before I left but didn't have the time. God I hate being away from home and internet! I'm currently paying £1 for this 30 minute connection in the bar so I can write.

I thought this camp would be a great opportunity for me to get away from all the temptations of the kitchen at home. I have to eat three meals a day with the rest of the people that I work with. So no snacks and no opportunities to buy or binge on food when I get weak.
I get here and am given the itinery.
Massive piss ups almost every night with my team, led by guys with beer guts three times the size of the rest of them. Alcohol, alcohol, alcohol - the most calorific thing on the planet... that makes my belly swell and makes me crave food and makes me lose control of my willpower to restrict. Alcohol, alcohol, alcohol... that is all these people do! Oh and when they're not drinking they are stuffing themselves with massive dinners and endless junk food. When I sat in the briefing last night I was fighting to keep back the tears. 'All these wonderful nights planned guys! You're gonna have a fantastic time!' I was so frightened. I can't remember I ever felt so threatened by food, but my God I'm not sure how I'm going to make it through.
It's rude not to socialise. It's rude not to drink your weight in alcohol. It's rude not to go to every meal, especially the big dinner nights and nights out for pizza (fucking hell!)
At the moment I am going to everything and just trying not to eat/drink. Last night I got away with just a shot of rum and a can of diet coke in the bar and I've only eaten a few of the vegetables and fruit at mealtimes and half a chicken breast for the sake of protein. (I took a yoghurt and it was FULL FAT - 12 GRAMS OF FAT! so it had to be binned). I know it's only gonna be a matter of time before people start getting shitty with me, but fuck them really. I held my ground last night in the bar when everyone was getting arsey with me for not drinking myself to death so I can do it again, and again. I will not be bullied into making myself fat.

I was a mess last night and I really missed this blog and all of you. I feel a bit better today knowing that I was able to stand up for myself, but I hope I don't crack... no I WILL NOT CRACK! :) It's cool. I have a long way to go to reach my target still, but I can feel my body is happy and shrinking... I'm going on holiday at the beginning of September where I want to be at least a stone down and then law school at the end of September where I want to be a stone and a half down. As long as I don't fuck up, don't drink alcohol, don't eat shit, don't binge; then I know I'm gonna get there.

It's gonna get tougher before it gets easier, but I'm strong.
I'm strong now I've written.
Nothing and nobody is going to get in my way. I want this so badly.

I don't think I've been this determined with my restricting since I was 15 (the glorious skinny days)

Love you and miss you all

Ophelia x x x

Saturday, 8 August 2009


I found out that 15 years before he died from cirrhosis of the liver, my dad was prescribed Antabuse - in other words, he was being treated for alcoholism.
So he knew he was an alcoholic long before it killed him. I had always thought it was a secret.

I questioned her about it.
"If he knew, then why didn't he stop? Why didn't he get help?"
She defended him, "It was an addiction. He tried, I know he did try, he really did try... but he couldn't stop." So she knew too.
"But he knew! He should have got help!" I stopped myself from telling her she should have made him get help as well.
"No, Ophelia, you don't understand. It's an addiction... like a drug addict... they know what they are doing is harmful, but they can't stop. I know he did try."

So when I opened cupboard doors and found secret stashes of vodka, inconspicuous coke bottles filled with white liquid, cups of 'washing up water'...that was him trying was it? I was 10 years old. He had given up, he had accepted that alcohol ruled him; that he was an alcoholic. I think he accepted that it was going to kill him.

It's an addiction.
A terrible addiction that no logical thinking can overcome.
And suddenly I realised the sad truth.
I am just like my Dad.

I know my eating disorder has destroyed so many years, so many opportunities and so much happiness in my life, but I can't stop.
I may be killing myself, but I don't know how else to live.
But what am I addicted to?
Throwing up?
Losing weight?
Harming myself?
... I'm not sure it's any of those things.

Sometimes, I get inspired, I have a moment of enlightenment and the world suddenly looks so beautiful, and I'm not going to have an eating disorder anymore, I'm going to be healthy and happy and this is it, I'm free I'm going to be a success!
And then I wake up the next morning and do the routine lift-up-the-t-shirt-to-examine-my-belly-in-the-mirror... and I know I have to have an eating disorder, because I don't know how else to cope with the horrible vision I see. I can't give it up, I need it, I'm addicted.

But here is the aching truth right now:
I want a training contract at a magic circle law firm.
I know, I'm a disillusioned perfectionist - but still a perfectionist - I want to be thin, painfully, perfectly thin, I want to be beautiful, without make-up, I want to work for the biggest and the best law firm in London. I want everything, a perfect everything and I simply do not know how to settle for less.

I cannot settle for less.

There are a number of things preventing me from getting what I want:

1. My grades at uni. Not good enough. Telling them you frequently spent weeks at a time locked away in your dark room throwing-up is not appreciated. I'm competing against the best students in the country.
Solution: Get a Distinction in my GDL (law conversion course) this year and do endless work experience and charity work.

2. Lack of confidence. It's not like I'm painfully shy, but I have BDD and an ED... erm I haven't held my head up high in 10 years. How am I going to pass an interview when I think everyone else is better than me and I can't stand people seeing how fat I am?
Solution: Stand up tall and stand out. Get a perfect body and get cheekbones and a defined jaw. Then I will love people looking at me and ooze confidence.

I want my collarbones, cheekbones and hip bones to be as sharp as my mind.

I want to be in complete control. People will look at me and know that I have the determination to do anything.

Winners do what losers don't want to do.
Let's get addicted to winning for a change :)

x x x

Sunday, 2 August 2009

Who's in my head full of beauty

This post is not so much about thinspiration, but the women who inspired my vision of beautiful perfection, made me believe in it, aspire to it... head full of beauty inspiration.

Vivien Leigh

I've been in love with Vivien Leigh since I was about 5 years old. be truthful I was in love with Scarlett O'Hara. Gone with the Wind has been my favourite film since I saw it as a little girl. I was completely blown away by her; her beauty, her courage, her power...Vivien is absolutely tiny in some scenes of Gone with the Wind, her figure was perfect. According to the book, the character of Scarlett had an 17 inch waist. W-O-W. (Proof that my lifetime idol had an ED surely!)

This last picture is my favourite of the whole movie. It's where she walks into Ashley's birthday party and knows everyone is talking about her, but her poise and the look on her face just says it all: "I'm beautiful. I'm better than all of you." Oh, I love it. I've wanted to be her for 16 years.

Audrey Hepburn

Oh I could post a million pictures of Audrey Hepburn and never be tired of her perfection. If anyone were ever to do a mathematical calculation of the perfect female face I think the results would match her exactly. Just everything about her features are in absolute perfect proportion. Imagine waking up to look at that in the mirror every morning. Not to mention the fact that she had the most beautiful, petite, ballerina body ever to grace Hollywood! There was something so fragile and delicate about her, but also something lively and vivacious (that many beautiful women such as Grace Kelly below lacked in my opinion). I am in love with this woman.

Grace Kelly

Ah Grace Kelly.
The scene on the left is from High Society - she looked stunning in that swimsuit...and there's another scene where shes in trousers where she looks amazing. The movie High Society is one of my favourite for thinspiration. She was probably the only woman in Hollywood at the time who could challenge Audrey Hepburn for the tiniest frame.

She's beautiful in a very pure way. I imagine that if Cinderella was real, she'd look a lot like Grace Kelly. Personally I love the Vivien Leigh look more for myself; sexy, bitchy, make-a-room-be-stunned-into-silence kinda beauty. But Grace is, well, she's the little-miss-perfect that can't put a foot wrong, and I love to hate that.

Barbara Carrera

Probably not a face many of you are familiar with. She played Fatima Blush in the James Bond film Never Say Never. I couldn't find that many pictures that did her justice and showed what it is about her that I love, so I've provided a link to a collection of her scenes in the film (sorry its in German).

Being half Chinese, half English, she's probably the woman on this page that I most look like (except she was half Nicaraguan) and probably the one that I would most aspire to look like. I love that sorta bitchy-glamorous look. The clips from the film say it all... a more exotic, more violent Scarlett O'Hara.

Zhang Ziyi

Memoirs of a Geisha and The House of Flying Daggers are two of my favourite films. And Zhang Ziyi is just... doll-like. Everything about her just looks as if it were hand-painted by the most delicate, precise hand. And without make-up she looks almost like a little choir boy - just the most purest beauty. Not to mention that she is one of my biggest - if not my biggest - thinspiration. Have you seen how tiny she is. God, why oh why didn't I inherit my mother's minuscule Chinese frame. I adore Zhang Ziyi and her tiny little body.

Alicia Keys

Probably the only woman on my list not to be regarded by most as a 'great' beauty, but to me she has the most beautiful, intelligent face. I think most mixed race people tend to be really pretty, and although Alicia usually wears a lot of makeup to look good, she has the features to look really attractive.

Doutzen Kroes

Unrivalled as my favourite model around at the moment. Look at that profile. I think profiles really show how beautiful someones bone structure is - and hers is perfect. Look at that nose and that jaw line. The picture abover of her with the weights is from an article that US Vogue did on her recently in their body issue. Apparently she does twice daily workouts and has 'healthy thighs'. Gotta admit the look really suits her, she glows with health and strength. A totally different look from Grace or Audrey.

Jessica Alba

I don't actually know what race Jessica Alba is, but whatever it is her looks are simply unique. I don't think she has that timeless perfection that some of the others have, but her beauty stands out because it is so raw and incomparable. Who else has features like that. Gorgeous.

Anyway, I'd love to know all your opinions!
(I am fasting at the moment.
Still thinking about that 17 inch waist.)

Fill your heads with beauty girls!
Love Ophelia x x x

Thursday, 30 July 2009

for fucks sake.

I had to eat a MASSIVE lunch that should have been for three people and then half a pizza - a pizza - that's not even real food! It's fucking sickening. No wonder I'm so disgusting at the moment. I can't even seem to throw it all up any more its just all sticking to my body as fat.

I really have had enough of keeping up this act of eating shit so that people don't think I'm a freak. I'm gonna eat the bare minimum on this camp. Just bits of fruit and veg at one meal maybe. And if they don't like it they can bitch about me all they want. I do not care anymore. I'm an adult. I should be able to eat what I want.

I am so frustrated with everything.
How did I let myself get so fat again. SO FAT OPHELIA AGAIN. SO FAT.
No, no, no, they can stick their fatty food into their own oppressive mouths. Why should they have any control over mine.

I wish I could just be with people who supported me. People who looked at me in disgust when I ate. People who told me I was fat. People who wanted to lose weight. People who believe in beauty.
Why is everyone against me? Why is fat so normal and so right? Why is ugly acceptable?

I just want beauty...clean bones. Why the hell is that so wrong?

So I messaged 'C' and he messaged back, asked me a load of questions so he clearly likes :)
I dunno why I take rejection so bad. It would kill me.

I'm filling in applications for training contracts with law firms at the moment. I have to put my mitigating/extenuating circumstances in to explain why I went from perfect-top-of-the-class student to just very average. I guess that's a bonus to having gone in for treatment I get nice doctors letters.
And then I write on the forms all about how I have now got better and healthier and how this has made me a stronger and braver person.

Never lie on an application form right.

Water for two weeks and the odd vegetable/piece of fruit and then ONWARDS DOWN!

Wednesday, 22 July 2009

One of the girls

Apologies for the long, long absence.'s been two weeks - but it feels like months! I have some SERIOUS catching up to do with you all, I hope you are all staying strong and I promise to read all your blogs in the next few days. I know I say it time and time again, but I couldn't do this without you all, you're all so kind and supportive to me and you've never even met me! It really means a lot.

So, what has happened in these last two weeks then?
Well, I guess I'd better start with that party I was preparing for when I wrote my last entry.
All the weight I lost for that has gone straight back on. I don't even want to talk about it. I came home and binged constantly for three days straight. All that hard work. Thrown away.

I dunno what I can write about that party anymore. Did I look thin? Did I look pretty? Did 'C' want me?
I don't know.
I can only tell you that in my head I looked fat, my belly stuck out, my cheeks were chubby, my calves were monstrous, my make-up was shit and no, no he didn't want me.
What's the truth?
I don't know, maybe other people thought I looked ok. I can only tell you what I visualised in the mirror.

I'm not gonna bore you with the ins and outs of when he smiled at me, and how I reacted and what he said etc, etc, primarily because I don't want to turn this blog into a trashy romance novel imitation. But I did think, after an evening of hating myself, for a fleeting moment when I was talking to him, that I had it, I'd got it, I'd won...
mmm no...
I added him on facebook. He accepted but he hasn't even messaged me or anything. So, ladies, that's code for ''I don't like you.'' Isn't it?
Normally I'd just message him and flirt without a care...but, I dunno, something has changed in me... it's like I'm suddenly so over-conscious that I'm too unattractive to waste my time.

So, I finished my temporary office job there, and went straight into working on a camp with a bunch of my mates from uni (hence the lack of blogging... I was in some remote part of the English countryside where there's no phone signal let alone internet!)

I was horrified and, to be honest, completely disgusted by my friends on camp. They would come back from dinner with 'food babies' and have to undo the zip on their jeans because their tummies were so big. The would laugh and joke about it. 'Oh I'm such a pig... I ate so much, look at me!' They would go on trips to buy junk food and then graze on it all day long like cows munching on grass. These girls are 20/21 and have cellulite on their thighs and butts that actually sag. Not one has a flat belly. Ok, not even one! Even the ones who are naturally skinny have bellies on them. God it actually makes me angry.
My head is so fucked up... I keep trying to tell myself that I'm pretty and that I have a good body... because I know in the general picture it's true... and yet I hate myself for being so ugly and I hate being so fat... because that is also true - compared to the picture of perfection that I am striving to be!
I'm sick of people telling me to be happy with myself and accept my size and shape. Fucking hell, if it means I'm like all my friends then absolutely no way, no thanks. I'd rather be fucked up and have toned, solid thighs.

I think I'm turning into a stuck up bitch... I was the only one on camp who wasn't pulling/fucking one of the guys. Ok so I'm still hung up on 'C' but usually I'm prancing around flirting and loving the attention. Instead I was just ignoring any guy that tried it on, turning my nose up in disgust. Dare I say it, but I think my quest for perfection has completely extended into my taste in men as well... I'm not sure that that's a good thing.

Sorry this post has been a bit all over the place... I'll get my head thinking in straight lines soon. I'm definitely needing a fast. I'm so ready for this.

Two months until law school.

love to you all, sending you thin dreams,
Ophelia x x x

Wednesday, 8 July 2009

Starving for

I hate the icky side effects of a starvation diet.
My hands are cold and clammy; the skin on my arms is dull and papery. My shoulders droop with weakness, I couldn’t lift anything at the moment. I’m just so tired.
I must apologise for not commenting/replying in the last few weeks, I've only been getting on the computer at work and am a bit paranoid about having a computer screen of ED sites. I'm finishing this week so I promise I will catch up!!

I’ve had some incredible resolve recently in order to get these sickly starvation side-effects. There's a big party at work tonight. I knew I had to starve for it. I have to look thin tonight; have to look beautiful; have to look the best; have to look perfect; have to make ‘C’ want me.

...I didn’t think he would have been invited. Then he told me on Monday morning that had been invited and was indeed coming, so I haven’t eaten since except for some cucumbers, tomatoes and apples. I’ve been pumping the laxatives as well to clear that out. It took me about 4 hours to choose what to wear last night. Every expensive dress made me look too fat in the mirror. Not good enough. Not fucking good enough. Too fat. Not perfect.
I’ve settled for a black shift dress with a pink crochet shrug and a waist clinching belt. There’s no changing it now. It’s sitting in the car waiting for me to put on when work ends at 5pm. Please God, make the reflection be kind to me this evening when I put it on, please let me see thin arms and legs, please let my flat stomach be flattered.
Jesus Christ if I look shit later I’m not gonna be able to hold it in.
I need to look perfect.
My head can’t take it.
I’m so scared.
I’m gonna crack.
I’m not gonna crack.
I’m too strong. I’ve worked too hard.
I want this too much.

‘C’ is gonna be there. This could be the last time I ever see him.
I killed myself these whole last two weeks while he’s been up in the same office as me in order to look perfect.
And I’ve never been so complimented in my life about the way I look.
But nothing from him.
I don’t accept nothing. I don’t except failure.
I have got to nail it tonight.
For all I know he’s gonna turn up with a fucking girlfriend, then I’d laugh. All this psychotic behavior for nothing.
But even if he walks away from me without a word I want to make a lasting impression. I want him to think one thing: ‘Wow’.

So you think I’m a self-interested, self-obsessed bitch who wants people to admire her and wants the world at her feet.
Yeah, I am.
But if you hate me for it, be happy in the knowledge that my life is miserable and empty as a result and I have nothing. Nothing. Cos it’s just a dream.

‘‘You’re almost too thin’’.
Fuck you.
God I wanted to scream!
I took it as an insult to my intelligence not a compliment.
Talks with concerned ‘father figures’ that I don’t eat properly/enough. Heard it all before, know how to deceive you all without blinking. Waste of time dear.

I went for a killer run last night. Pushed myself further than ever and it felt simply amazing.
Imagine the high tonight after the makeup and the dress and the hair is all done. I will look perfect. Oh please, please, I have to… I know I will break down if I look bad…

My happiness is held in a mirror at 6pm tonight.
And somehow...I already know I'm not gonna look good enough for him,
for them,
for me.
For ever.

EDIT: Commenters, I love you. You're right, I'm absolutely gonna be the thinnest there, turn heads and relish in it!! Positive thinking Ophelia!! xxx