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Showing posts from June, 2009

Maybe it's the sunshine

Well, I have reached my lowest weight for about six months! I am officially back to my pre -Christmas weight! Not entirely a cause for celebration as I was still unhappy before Christmas...but at least I am well and truly on the road of progression! The only slight problem is that I have gone from being a laxative virgin to being slightly addicted...can’t go a day without having at least one BUT my tummy is so gloriously flat! I know that the second I stop taking the little cream-coloured pills I’ll start inflating again and to be honest I’m quite enjoying fitting into all my pretty little dresses in this lovely warm weather! Once I lose another 10 pounds or so, I’ll be able to come off the laxatives without fear of food inside me causing too much of an extra bulge. The current object of my affections, 'C', who I talked about in my last post is not in today, so I’m able to wear a plain red dress and not stress too much about my face – which is just as well because I don’t look

Falling

I have to begin by saying thank you for all the positive comments. I was really moved. Things are still on a general low, and there have been lots more tears and screaming with my mum, but I'm staying strong through it all :) And the maintenance has finally broken!!!!! Oh so happy, oh so worth it. I feel very empty and numb at the moment, which is very unsual for me. I'm usually either bouncing off the walls or pumped with emotion, caught up in my own great big desructive tornado. I think it's my current job. 7am to 10pm at a desk...doing nothing...braindead...souldead. Go home to sleep and then do it all again. just over two weeks to go and then its over, thank God. Why haven't I blogged for a week? A head full of beauty numbed with boredom. At least when I'm chaotic I know I'm alive. My job, however, has taught me that I have another obsession which equals my obsession with food. To regular readers, this may come as no surprise. I need male attention. I need s

Yes, I'm the great maintainer

So, a few days ago I declared that I was off to buy some laxatives to clear out my podgy belly. Took one. Nothing. Took two. Standard. Took three. And spent all day at work cramped over in severe pain and running to the loo every half hour. Oh my god did I curse myself. 8am to 5pm sat in an office, feeling like something inside me had collapsed. What I would give to go back to uni already and spend my days curled up under my duvet! I am sick of maintaining my weight. I'm working so hard on restricting my calorie intake and nothing is happening. Although I haven't exercised for like two weeks or something - maybe three. That's disgusting. I need to sort it out. I was a member of my gym at uni, and loved it. Now that I'm back home I can't get a gym membership anymore because my Mum believes in saving money over being healthy. She controls everything I spend and everything I do when I'm living with her. Working in an office with these long hours leaves me no time

Down to Drown

I started this blog in January - just over six months ago - as a tool to vent my emotions, explore my motivations, reveal my weaknesses... to find a place in a community where I could let my social mask of normality fall and be truthful, above all else. But my weight in this six months has pretty much maintained. Fasts being replaced by binges. Vomiting being followed by more eating. In the grip of bulimia, flirting with starvation, getting drunk until I fuck up. I am not classed as 'overweight''. I never have been. Is it purely Body Dysmorphic Disorder that made me hate my body? What made my face, my arms, my legs, my torso, my tummy, my bottom, my whole entire white, fleshy, exterior shell become my nemesis? As far as I can recall, I was 'normal' until the age of nine. That's when I decided I was fat. I wasn't. I can tell you that now, looking back at photos, I was absolutely tiny. But facts don't matter - I hated my body because I was fat. And that

He got to laugh

My mum wants me to go into town with her to sort out my bank account. I go only to avoid an argument. I wear my shittest fattest clothes. Glasses. Foundation. I look like a piece of shit, humiliated by my reflection, but its ok ...it'll be two minutes in public then home to hide my ugly reflection away. I would never, ever go out looking like this on any normal occasion. I walk right into my ex-boyfriend. Not seen him since we broke up 3 years ago. Panic attack. Sweating. Shaking. Retching. Fists clenched like a murderer. Knife, blood, help me cope. Walked in the door and screamed. I want to smash things up. I want to bleed into ecstasy . He got to laugh at how ugly I am.

Under-Weighted Goal

This is going to be a quick post. Laxatives. Never used them before. Am off to buy some tomorrow. Needless to say, my digestive system shuts down when I successfully fast/restrict and my belly sticks out a mile with all the backlog of food that won't move! I tried the natural way with 'Aloe Vera Colon Cleanse' from Holland & Barrett. Recommeded dose: 1 pill before bed. After a few weeks my desperate dose: 6 pills before bed. And no bowel movements. My period? Absent without leave. Last time I had it my stomach swelled up like a balloon, face broke out in spots and I felt like a massive piece of shit. I'd say I was fitting all those symptoms right now. I want to retch when I look in the mirror. Bad skin... seriously... that is up there with the weight issues when it comes to my paranoia and BDD. And no, no, I don't have acne, I know, just like I'm not overweight, I know, I know. But if it's not a clear, flawless complexion it's disguisting to me. Just

Comic Relief

For your own amusement, this article in the Daily Mail (UK) today is guarenteed to make you laugh: Why the guys just can't resist my squishy bits By ANNE SHOOTER Proud of her body: Anne Shooter fits the figure of Miss Average Women who are curvy all know about a very special cream. It keeps them looking young, feeling happy, and makes them irresistible to the opposite sex. Not only that, but it costs just a few pounds for a huge tub. It's name? Ice cream. You see, the truth is that men like women who eat and have the curves to show it - and we curvy women know that men prefer us like that. I am just about spot-on the vital statistics of the Miss Average who was identified in a new survey as being the dream woman for most men: 5ft 4in tall, a size 14 with a waist that hovers around 30in, rounded hips and a 36DD bust. And you know what? I've never had any complaints from men about my looks. Far from it. In fact, men have only ever commented positively about my eyes, smile, sk

Please, Sink a blade into my thigh

Self harm is something that has always confused me. Before I started doing it, I didn't comprehend why anyone could possibly have a need for it. When I started doing, I couldn't rationalise my actions to others or to myself. Now that I can't stop doing it, I can't work out why I can't stop or what I need to do. It's a stupid, irrational addiction . I don't know why I started, or why I need it, or how to control it... I just know that I desperately want to stop. I go through cycles of this addiction - or this craving rather. I need to self harm right now. I need to sink a blade into my thigh; and then everything will be alright. I've been battling this craving for the last few days - since Friday to be precise - just hoping that it's suddenly going to fade... it's just because I'm stressed, just because I'm tired, just because... I'm at a loss to be honest with you. I'm fighting so hard and I'm just not winning. I'm at work

Salad...salad...salad

So, this whole eating lunch at work in the canteen thing is actually working out pretty well. There are always two options: a served hot meal (usually consisting of some sort of meat, potatoes, veg) or a cold salad buffet. I always have the cold salad of course, except that 80% of the options are either carbs (potatoes/pasta/rice) or drenched in salad creams, eughhhh . The only foods I take are raw cucumber, tomato, fish, mushrooms, peppers. I did try to have an egg or a piece of chicken in the salad last week, but just ended up feeling really full and uncomfortable, so I'm just sticking to raw veggies and a small bit of seafood this week. Anyway, like I say, this enforced eating thing is actually working out well now that I've been able to find lots of safe foods to fill my plate with...well...half fill :) And absolutely no one has commented on it, so it seems like my years of experienced lying have paid off! I have to say, the rigid routine is really doing wonders for me. I
I'm back in the suburbs of South London, sitting in a bright office, overlooking a sublime view of lime green grass bathed in glorious sunshine. A glorious English summer...and I'm in a long-sleeved shirt and knee length skirt...because nothing else fits me. No. I admit, I'm being overly-harsh. I refuse to wear anything else. Because nothing else fits me well enough. Nothing else hides me well enough. I hate my body. I want it to disappear. I finished uni on Tuesday. By some miracle I got my final assessment finished on time and handed in. I sat through lunch today at work in turmoil. My belly aches from eating. I had a salad with seafood. And a generous helping of calorific cous cous. And a yoghurt. Fat free, but still, a goddam yoghurt. Idiot, idiot, idiot. I could have just taken a place of green leaves and swished it around my plate. Why do I have to put on this stupid show of eating. The second I put down my knife and fork my head was screaming PURGE! I can't eat a