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