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

Friday, 3 July 2009

I binge and I barf...

I didn’t step on the scales this morning.
I know the figures would have gone up from eating so much yesterday and I couldn’t bear seeing higher numbers.
I’ve been a bit of an emotional train wreck these last few days. Some sorta full on bipolar, manic depressive roller coaster. Screeching round tight corners between break-neck hyper joy and the slamming breaks of reflections in the mirror and screaming inner pain.
My mum has been eating away at the remainder of my self-esteem with devastating effect, constantly finding fault with every single part of me.
I received my degree results in the post when I got home from work on Tuesday night. I got a fucking 2:1. I was sooo relieved and thankful. My mum leaned over the staircase banister and looked blankly at me. ‘So you’re happy are you?’ she said bitterly. ‘Yes.’ ‘I expected a first. Honestly I expected a first. You always used to get the top grades.’
And that was it.
Not a smile even.

It didn’t really affect me. I knew I wasn’t gonna get a first and I had been praying for a 2:1, and I knew I was extremely lucky to get it.
Until the next day, when I went into work, and everyone was congratulating me and telling me how impressed they were, and how proud I should be. While I was away on my lunch break they brought me a massive bouquet of the most beautiful flowers and a card. I was indescribably touched and moved, having to fight so hard to keep back the tears. I had never expected anyone to even bat an eyelid, and here was the whole office congratulating me and making me feel special for what I had achieved.
It made me realise that so much of my self-worth (or complete lack of it) has been established and confirmed by my mum. Because she reiterates everyday how worthless and horrible I am, there has never been any space in my thoughts for any other feelings. Because she didn’t value my degree, I didn’t value it. Because she thought I was a failure, I never questioned it.
But she is so wrong.
I have an upper second class degree in English Literature from a respectable university and I’ve got a place at one of the most reputable law schools in London to study law in September.
Thanks to all the kind people in my office, I have been able to feel the first sense of pride and self-worth towards myself since I was a little girl.
So a lot of tears and breakdowns as I tried to grapple with it all. Her words were ringing in my ears: ‘Everyone tells me I should be so proud. Ha! How could I be proud of YOU? Look at you...sick...’
I confronted her last night. ‘Name one thing you like about me.’ She ignored me. ‘Go one tell me something nice about me.’ She couldn’t do it.

Somehow I have to learn to re-programme myself and learn to remove her influence from my head. I have to learn to block out every cruel, demeaning thing she says to me. But it’s so hard when you’re a daughter who cares so much.

I can’t really be bothered to go into the panic attacks at the hands of mirrors or the hours spent changing dresses and analysing every angle to see which makes me look thinner.

I cracked yesterday. Binged for dinner. Seafood salad, chocolate muffin, giant cookie and a baguette. Puked in public toilets rather than going back to the office ones. Great, big congealed lumps of tearful relief. Prawns still completely whole. Got home and binged again after confronting my mum. Like 4 chocolate bars, three packets of crisps and bread... puking ok but not as completely as I would like.
Sickly sing-song over and over in my head: I binge and I barf ‘cos I carry the scars...

I can't stand the way I look.
Starving has got to be the cure.