Wednesday, 24 February 2010

My mum has found everything.
Posts from this blog, comments I kept, the long assessment letters from the doctors.
She knows everything.

She went through all my personal things. And read everything.

I could cope before.

No more

how can I possibly carry on? I wish I could find an end. everything is broken. nothing can be fixed. I've ruined my whole life

I have nothing left

I am so afraid - and so alone - and so empty

Sunday, 21 February 2010

The price of power

All the power I have comes from the mirror: it comes from seeing fresh, clear skin, big brown all-absorbing eyes, soft dark hair and plump pink lips. From toned legs, a trim waist and slim arms - my power comes from my confidence; my power comes from the way I look.
It's a lie, when people say it's what's inside that counts. But we all know this. We all know that's a load of crap. The world is powered by superficiality.

As a woman, being beautiful is more important than anything. Period. And I don't mean fake hair-extensioned, plastic beauty, I mean REAL beauty.
I mean that naturally glossy smile, that healthy twinkle in the eyes, skin that glows and a body that's lean and fit: with charisma that sparkles.
You see, when a woman has all these things, she can command anyone - any man, even any woman.

I don't have Real Beauty.
But sometimes, with a great deal of effort, I can come pretty close. The experiences I have in this state are simply ethereal.
I can wrap people around my little finger. I can charm them completely. I can manipulate them. I can win.

I remember, as a teenager, I used to look in awe at those girls: the stunning ones, the ones that everybody loved. I knew even then, that the key to their power was not simply in the way they looked, but in their charisma. The combination of the two makes for a force that cannot be reckoned with. That charisma, I'm sure, came from their confidence - because they knew they looked amazing - because they knew they were better than the rest of the girls - they knew they were superior.
I didn't have it.
I've always wanted it.
I'm getting so close now.

When I stand in front of the mirror I can see the bumps of my hips bones. I can pinch fewer inches around my belly. I can outrun half the guys my age. When I do my hair and makeup, I'm starting to feel it... the charisma and charm, the sparkle in the eyes... the power.
I'm starting to believe in myself. At 'The Club', nobody knows any different. Nobody sees anyone other than a confident, bubbly, life-loving, pretty girl. For the first time; I can play that girl.

But is it making me happy? I'm throwing my whole life away for this.
I spend three hours in the gym. I have to go. I skip classes at law school. I keep skipping classes. Don't eat. Laxatives. Mirror, mirror, this dress, that dress, no that dress... out tonight, he's there and he's there, will get drunk, will flirt and flirt, will act like I'm the hottest girl in the room.

Will come home empty-hearted.

Thursday, 11 February 2010

Back on the crazy: Fit men and alcohol

I'm trying to work out exactly where my life went from bulimic, dull, law-student to starving, vivacious, teenager... (again)....
...Oh that was it, meeting D and deciding to stay at ''the Club'' and socialise with them...
I am back to being the crazy, drunk, fun-loving girl I was at University (as a result of being a member of "the Club'' at university.)

Ohh I managed to resist the temptations of a lustful life for so long! I came to London and law school with such good intentions! I even came to "the Club'' in London with good intentions - to be boring, and do my job and go home! I avoided all men and all alcohol.
(If you read all my old posts back, you'll see, if it hadn't been for me sleeping with Hugh last week, I'd be about to hit a one year dry spell in the sex department!)
But now, men and lust and alcohol are back in my life with a vengeance - reminding me just how much I missed them. And my flirty, hedonistic personality are feeding off them passionately - giving my best Scarlett O'Hara impression to the full.

Now... this is going to sound insane.
And I can't believe I'm writing it.
On Tuesday, after our weekly meeting, there was a massive Club social.

I went home with D.


Hahahaha! But wait. It's a confusing story... so let me explain...
Now, I know you all said to keep a low profile and let it blow over, but I knew it was going to be a big event - and I knew Hugh was going to be there. (I assumed Rowan and D would also be there... but Hugh was the target - just for sex you understand. I haven't fallen for him or anything.)
As it turns out, things at the Club blow over pretty quickly. There was a lot of banter and cruel jokes and jibes, but hey, it seems they are pretty forgiving - one or two girls still look straight through me, but generally, I think scandal has passed pretty easily.

So, Hugh, Hugh... typical. I don't really mind, I sort of half expected it I suppose... I mean, I know it was just 100% casual, and like I say, I haven't fallen for him or anything so it's ok. He didn't ignore me exactly - he's not shy or pathetic - but it was literally as if nothing had happened. Just a casual brief chat while I'm with some others, ''Hello Ophelia, how are you, good, excellent, good, good,' and off he went.
D was nowhere to be seen most of the time, or he was in his tight little group of high-ranking third year boys. Sigh. Why do I find it so hard to corner him.
I spent most of the evening talking to some of the boys in my year. I looked my absolute best again (as is always necessary when I'm at the Club to be honest). I hadn't eaten a thing and was wearing a tight, sexy red dress which showed off my flat tummy to perfection. My biggest problem at the moment are still my thunderous legs... oh... whatever, I still need to lose SO much more... I'm getting so close now... so close...

Anyway, late on into the evening I managed to catch D and another boy outside talking, so I went up to them and briefly joined in. I was rather drunk, so I don't remember much of the conversation, but no doubt I was putting on a great show of confidence and charm - the full Scarlett O'Hara act.
I didn't see him again until closing time... where I bumped into him at the bar and basically exclaimed with joy, "D!!!!" and gave him a massive hug. I then started to talk a load of bubbly chat... about something... but oh, well he was talking to me! We all left at closing time, and I found myself standing outside... I could see Hugh on the other side of the road, he wasn't coming for me... and D just beside me, talking to Rowan and some others. I pretended to be texting on my phone... and then he came over, gave me his arm and we started walking, following behind Rowan, his flatmate and Rowan's fuckbuddy. We got into a taxi and got out at Rowans... at which point they bid me and D goodbye..
I looked at him, and we started walking.
We both knew I was going back to his: he didn't have to ask, I didn't have to ask.

In bed we chatted for a while (again I have trouble recalling what the conversations were about). One part I do remember was when he asked me who I'd slept with at the Club... and he told me he thought I had slept with Hugh and Rowan. I pretended I hadn't heard him say Hugh and then proceeded to vehemently deny sleeping with Rowan (well, because I haven't). And then we chatted some more... about random things...
Unfortunately, I told him, "You're the reason I stayed at the Club... you have no idea do you? you have no idea how much I like you... I facebook stalk you...why don't you ever talk to me at the Club?"
I don't know, I was drunk, I was bursting with chatter... I just said all those things...
"I thought you just saw me as a friend"
"...I don't see you as a friend."
"Well... what do you see me as then?"
He said nothing.
So I didn't pursue it.
(At the time I took his silence as embarrassment because he sees me as more than a friend and couldn't say it to me... but now in my sobriety and cynicism I fear maybe he sees me as just an acquaintance at the Club, not even a friend...?)

We must have laid there for an hour almost, until, somehow, I found my face close to his, and we were kissing...

Oh God, I want to kiss him again.

It was just like I had imagined it. His warm, strong body; running my hands along his perfectly toned arms... it was the most sensual experience I've had in a long time.
He kissed my body like it was a fragile ornament.

And then, I put a stop to it.
I don't know why I said it, but the words just came out of my mouth: "I'm not a slut."
I want him more than anything... and yet, somehow, I don't regret not sleeping with him...
I'm so confused.

The next morning was another case of acting like nothing had happened.
We had breakfast, chatted some more, he walked me to the station... no kiss, no nothing (even Hugh gave me a tight hug and kiss on the cheek when I left his!)

But the thing is with D - that I finally now fully appreciate - is that he's shit with women. From his own mouth, he told me, he never takes girls home, he never pulls. "That's why Rowan sent you home with me, because I never get laid." (I didn't quite know how to react to that. Rowan sent me home with you?! Rowan instigated this!? ... because Rowan thinks I'm a slut and the easiest way for you to get laid?!?!)
As I ate my toast, he started putting some new tyres on his bike. He looked up at me, "This is what I do instead of getting laid."
(Well, what the hell was I supposed to say to that?) I just laughed as if he were joking. (I don't think he was.)
Then he started talking about another guy at the Club, and how he was really sweet with his girlfriend, and how he felt jealous, and how he thinks that no man could enjoy sleeping around because it doesn't stop them from feeling lonely.
I was confused.
Was he telling me he wanted a girlfriend?
And why was he telling me this?
He wasn't making a move on me.
Even though he knows I like him (unless he thought I was lying/he was so drunk he forget everything that happened last night?!)
He probably never will make a move he's so fucking useless with women.
What am I supposed to do?
What am I supposed to think?

I don't trust him.
I really don't.
I don't know what he wants.
I don't know who he is.

but I know, now I want him more than ANYTHING.
and now, I am so confused
and messed up.

This is a plea: desperately needing advice....

p.s. PLEASE bear with me while I catch up with blogs and commenting. Next week is my week of reading allllll your posts and sending out lots of love! x x x

Saturday, 6 February 2010

The Club

This blog is my crazy space.
It is the only place in the world, where I can be crazy. - Or rather, it is the one place in the world where I can talk, uncensored, about my crazy behaviour in the real world.
Sometimes - as with the story I am about to tell - some people see my crazy behaviour - but you guys get the full picture.
I suppose, what I'm saying is that this blog is not just about my eating disorder. It's about the terrible insecurities in my head, the reckless behaviour and the irrationality that comes from my mental instability - All the things that have created my eating disorder and which are also borne from my eating disorder - Body dysmorphic disorder, need for male attention, shopping addiction, obsessions, reckless drunkeness... the list of abnormalities goes on.

Now, 'The Club'.
I've mentioned it in posts before, but feel I should explain it better for the purpose of this story.
I was a member of 'The Club' at my university in another part of the country, and when I moved back to London to study law, I decided to continue my membership and join the London Club.
There is a hierarchy in 'The Club' - after three years you get a position of responsibility in running the Club, based on how good you are. In my three years with the Club at university, I reached a pretty high role. It was hard when I first came to the Club in London, being the new girl and slotting right into the tight-knit 'third year' group. I got a lot of talk behind my back - almost none of the girls acknowledged me. It was so hard, being new and having such an important position.
So I went for the first few months pretty much friendless - I was organising the ball, that was my role, nothing more, so I didn't socialise with them and didn't attempt to make friends. I realise that was my own fault, but it was all so hard already because I knew they were prejudiced against me from the start.
So at the ball in early December- I was forced to socialise - obviously, I had to be there because I was running it. And that's where I met D.
D was the first person to talk to me as a friend. It meant even more that he was a 'third year' with a higher role in the Club than me. He was falling over himself to help me out with anything. So sweet, so kind, not to mention reasonably good looking - so of course I fell for him. The rest is history, as the last few posts will tell.
That night, I also met Rowan and Hugh - other 'third year' boys with top positions.
Rowan is the spitting image of James, the boy I fell for in my second year of uni. Exactly the same, inside and out - clean cut, good looking, oozing irresistable rich boy charm and a self-professed slut. So of course, I was attracted to him. And a part of me wishes I had slept with him at the ball - because, believe it or not, I had the chance that night.
And Hugh - Rowan's arch enemy. Well I've never mentioned Hugh before, because I didn't see the point. He is the fittest guy in 'The Club'. I met him the morning of the ball. He was helping to set up. I asked him something. He leant down close to me and asked me to repeat what I said. I swooned. Literally swooned. And stuttered " - err- the tape... er... have you f-finished??"
Yes, he was so tall, so stunning and so ridiculously out of my league that I struggled to hold my nerve in his presence. Obviously, you know what happened with D since the ball, but with regards to Rowan and Hugh, I have spoken to them briefly once or twice since, nothing interesting or exciting.

Until last night.

There was a bit of party going on. I was there. Made myself look my best, of course, for D... still hoping and holding out for D. And D just smiles at me shyly when we pass each other by. Twice. Before I can get drunk enough to find him alone, he's gone.
I felt my heart sinking. Again, D, again.
...But then Hugh steps in.
The fact that he talks to me once is enough to make me die.
Then he finds me again and talks to me more
and some more
alone in the corner of the room
alone on the roof
alone outside in the corridor
alone to another room
Shit. What?!

On several occasions we were interrupted by gangs of people in 'third year'. They kept warning me off him. "Ophelia... you know that's Hugh... Don't do it. Don't do it."
Poor Hugh. No one in 'third year' likes him. I learnt this from the day of the ball, and have been hearing it since. Some of them are appalling to him. I know he talks a lot and can seem big-headed and over-enthusiastic perhaps, but he has a good heart. He loves 'The Club'. I suppose in a lot of ways, he's an outsider of 'third year' like me. We're both not really accepted.

Somehow I was dragged away. And found myself with Rowan.
Oh God, how did I let this happen.
We starting flirting, outrageously. He had his arm around my waist. But I wanted it. I could see Hugh out the corner of my eye, watching us. I knew it. Rowan knew it. The arch enemies were both competing for my attention.

In the end, Hugh solved my dilemma. He got a girl to come over and pretend to ask me to go outside with her. I did. Hugh was waiting for me there.

I don't know if I like him for this or not.

We went to another room, alone. One more interruption - three boys, with no manners and nothing nice to say about Hugh.
And then we left.
I stayed at his. And yes, I slept with him.

I didn't think about the consequences at the time. He was one of the fittest boys I have ever been in the company of. I was drunk. I wanted it. Truth be told, I still want it again.
But now, the girls who instinctively disliked me have a reason to bitch about me behind my back. "The new girl comes along, flirting with all the important guys and fucks Hugh.... Slut... Whore... Who does she think she is, flirting with ALL the guys." The boys who hate Hugh, now also hate me for choosing him over them. "As if she fucked Hugh, she must be desperate."
And Hugh, stupid, immature, insensitive Hugh - He posted on Rowan's facebook wall: 'The girl you were chatting up went home with another guy.'
I know he's a bastard to you, Hugh, I know you hate each other, but FUCKING HELL, do not use ME as a way to get one over on him.
I went to 'The Club' this evening. Not one of them spoke to me. But D smiled. That same quick little sweet smile. But everyone else was stone cold.

...D. That's my biggest fuck up.
He must know by now. He and Rowan are close friends. OH OPHELIA! Why did you have to be such a slut!
I don't regret what happened with Hugh. It was casual sex with a fit guy.
I wouldn't have regretted the same if it had happened with Rowan.
But I regret D finding out.
I regret that so much.
Because I really care about him. I really, wanted more with him. Surely, there's no chance now.

Now, I know what you'll all say. The boys are jealous of Hugh because he's so good looking. The girls are jealous of me because I'm pretty. I wish that were true, but I know it's not. Even if it was that simple, the fact remains: As a new girl, I came to 'The Club' with a poor, unestablished reputation. Now, after last night - after only my second night socialising with them - it's in tatters:
I didn't speak to a single girl all evening. I loved the attention, I lived for it, I flirted like I owned the place. It took only the second time I met Hugh to go home with him.
- They all saw all this, and they didn't like it.

Do you know what makes me feel most shit? I didn't buy one drink that night. I got hammered on free drinks from several different boys. I know I'm the 'new meat', but still, not one boy bought me a drink or was talking to me because he liked me as a person. All they saw was how I looked, and all they wanted was sex.
Is this really what I wanted? Is this really the goal I've been killing myself for?
It felt good.
It feels shit.

During the course of the evening, drunk and high off Hugh and flirting, I thought about this post in my head, how glorious it would sound. I was going to call it, 'How to manipulate men and get what you want.' YES I fucking have it. They all wanted a piece of me.

Now, no, I am emotional and confused. It took getting what I dreamed of to realise I feel worthless and degraded for it.
And yet, I want to see Hugh again. Thinner, prettier. I want to do it all again.
I want to see Rowan, even if he's fuming with Hugh and one of many who lost all respect for me, I want to flirt with him again, thinner and hotter than before.
And D. I just don't want D to think badly of me.