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.
I WANT TO BE TOP OF MY CLASS IN EVERY SINGLE ASSESSMENT.
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.

I WILL NOT SETTLE FOR LESS

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.
But
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.

Fear.
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

Winning

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.