New low...but it doesn't feel like it? Hm. Gotta fix that.

I think I'm in denial. Yes. My mind doesn't believe the scale, doesn't believe in the surreal series of blurry numbers before my early morning eyes:



Nah...

That can't be right.

You know the drill, P.D. Step on, step off. Lean to the left. Step off, step on, teeter-totter-lean, stand right in middle. Stare.

Hm.

Huh.

Well. Those laxies did hurt like a mothafuckin'bitchfromhell last night. That could explain it.

So what does the mirror say today? Well, yesterday it hated me. Or, rather, I hated myself. The mirror simply assisted. Yes, Thursday was an especially horrid day for my dysmorphia. In the art building at school, the smooth reflective surface before my sallow face showed me lovely, loving bones in my shoulders, in my arms, in my chest, in my back, all casting shadows down and around themselves under harsh, unforgiving fluorescent lights. But my eyes traveled down to where they never should on a day like yesterday, down to my hips -- my disgraceful hips -- my ass, my thighs...Ugh, fuck...the shudder that escaped was inadvertently audible as it reverberated through the tiny restroom, echoing my disgust for all present to enjoy.

I left rather quickly. That was awkward.

Today, though... Well, at least for now, I feel okay with what MY bathroom mirror is saying about my UPPER body. I've decided to completely IGNORE my lower half for right now, for my own sanity. Yes. I can do that.



As unreal as 128.4 seems, I'm wondering now if 125 will seem any more concrete, as that's the "official healthy weight" I'd decided to keep as my stopping point...if I'm to stop at "healthyish" place. If not...If I want to keep pushing it and really get to my skin-n-bones ideal of beauty... Well, then I'll be pushing on down to 110, won't I?

Baby steps.

Love you, beauties. I hope you all have a wonderful Friday. I know I'm going to try to make mine as badass as I can. I have a free babysitter til Sunday night, so I'm going to try to pack as much partying into this weekend as possible. I don't EVER get to do that!!! :D EVER!!! Trick is to get myself into the partying mood, you know? Cuz if I'm all depressed and shit, well...then there's really no use in trying to go out and get shitfaced and have fun, is there? No, there really isn't. I'll just end up smearing teary mascara all over some random stranger's shirt and feeling sorry for myself, telling my whole life story to some schmuck who doesn't care or deserve to hear it, and spending a whole lot of money I don't actually have on a lot of empty alcohol calories that'll end up on my fat ass and/or in the back alley of a bar off of 6th street because I can't hold my liquor on an empty stomach. Ah, how I wish I had money. I'd just go and get a new tattoo. ;)

<3

If the laxies woulda worked, it'd be a new low.

I've been nearly as horrible at posting as I have been at keeping up with my reading/commenting.

The innately guilty side of me comes out so strongly when I write here. That's something to ponder sometime.

Not right now.

I thank you all for your support in my decision to keep myself from my cancer sticks. They are dangerous, yes, in so many ways... Honestly, I don't believe I may deserve all of your props... Sure, I was addicted at one point in my life; I would smoke nearly two packs a day for nearly two years, but that was back when I was 18ish. Now...Well, now I had just started up again. About a week ago, and not even in full earnest. So quitting wasn't nearly as difficult as it would have been for someone who had been smoking for a much longer period of time.

Even so...Thank you. :) Your comments are keeping me from going to the corner store RIGHT NOW and buying another pack. I want to...I won't lie. But I won't. I won't, I won't. Thank you for reminding me, even when you're not around.

So 129.0 this morning. I've still been "bingeing," but not to an excessive degree. I'd say one or two binges per day, rather than the day-long binge-fest that leaves you swollen and hating life as you lie in bed wanting to die type thing.

I've been popping laxies and Topamax like it doesn't matter. Like nothing matters.

That is bad.

I've been somewhat careful with the latter. I won't OD. I promise. I've not gone over 100 mg on any given day. It's still quite a jump from 12 mg a day (my smallest dosage as of late)...I'm just..fed the fuck up. Literally and figuratively, ya know?

I don't feel 129.0 today. I feel flabby and huge. I think the scale must be lying. I felt smaller, tighter, more toned at 131. I know I'm losing muscle mass because I stopped drinking my protein shakes. I need to buy some more. There's no really good reason as to why I stopped drinking them. They taste good enough, and they're not any more caloric than the cereal I've pretty much been replacing them with. In fact, they're eliminated from my body more rapidly anyway. It's just that I'm lazy, plain and simple. If I'm not mindful, vigilant, then I'll just put any old thing into my body, just so long as it's low-cal enough to keep me under my limit.

Yep. That's bad.

I feel like I've been living in a blur. I'm fairly certain that's pretty close to normal for the last few weeks of the semester. It has a lot to do with my depression, I know, and my separate meds, and my relationships goings on, and the fact that I feel like my days are living me, rather than the other way around.

The last one? Yes. That's not okay. That leads to the feeling of being out of control, and we all know how much people like you and I just LOVE being out of control...

Ah well. I do need to get going. Little B's daycare is expecting Mommy to bring a picture of us together so they can decorate it for some cutesy little Mother's Day project (and this is the part where P.D. thinks "Oh SHIT, Mother's Day? I haven't even THOUGHT of getting my mom a card or ANYthing! And now, shit, my stepmom, too?? I haven't even spoken to her in like, a year! And I know she'll be sending me something and I really need to make some kind of connection with her because if I don't I just know I'll be the only one of us kids who doesn't (I always do this kind of shit...) *sigh*..."

Yes.

<3 you, skinnies. Muchly.

An addendum to nastydisgustingsmokingshit...

...it's gross. I know.

The guilt was too much. Being out of breath as I trudged up the hill to art class was too much.

I don't really want them. I don't really want that horrible habit. I don't really want that disgusting stench on my clothes and my skin and in my hair.

***

I gave my last 13 cigarettes and my lighter to my therapist.

She smiled and took them for me.

I <3 her.

Maybe if I turn my lungs black...

I've picked up smoking again.

I'm trying, anyway. Trying to convince myself that the pros outweigh the cons is pretty damn difficult when I know how horrible it is for me, and when it makes me feel even more unhealthy than I already do.

Still, it's pretty damn hard to want to eat anything at all with that freshly smoked cancerstick flavor coating your entire mouth, isn't it?



That, and you can't really beat the nearly instantaneous mellow it provides...

I binged yesterday. And today. Yes, already! But yesterday's total was about 1,600 (that's estimating high, just to be safe) and my weight is the same as it was yesterday morning, so I'm not going to worry TOO much. Yeah, I weighed myself again. Pssh. To think I can actually wait DAYS between weigh-ins?? I used to. I simply can't. It's like the highlight of my day, waking up to that scale. Fear, apprehension, excitement, anticipation...Like some sort of twisted Christmas morning insanity, rushing to the bathroom to see what it has to tell me. 130.4. Today's breakfast was too much. Soyjoy bar: 140. Cereal with milk: 220. Gluten-free cookies: 65. Banana: 100. Cigarette: 0. And it helped me avoid the gluten-free tapioca toast I was really craving beforehand. Thank you, nicotine.

I really shouldn't start this up again. Back when I smoked a pack and a half a day, I was profoundly addicted. It's simply who I am. It's kind of my thing. Logic tells me to avoid addictive substances or behaviors because it's almost inevitable that I'll be hooked in no time. I can't even afford to get addicted to cigarettes again.

This post is boring.

Ummm...I should go get ready for school. I hope my lovely ladies (and gents) are doing well today...With everything in me I send you strength of will and presence of mind, and all other sorts of niceties you may need in order to reach your personal goals. Thank you for your unending support. :)

Here's to starving for the rest of the day... <3

Some contradiction, for I am made of it:

I want my bones to show for always. I do not want them to disappear.

I want them to be even more prominent than they are now, everywhere, in graceful beautiful ethereal fairysplendor.

I want to retain my sense of self, my soulfulness, my inner angel, the qualities for which I am known and loved and valued by those who know me and by complete strangers.

I want control.

I want to be free of control.

I am not ready to give up this tool that I have, this instrument of loss that has obviously helped me and hurt me thus far, but I am intelligent enough to realize that I must be incredibly mindful and cautious.

I will continue to take my medicine. I will modify my dosage as my emotions dictate. It seems like the most logical thing to do at this point. I cannot allow myself to binge the way I did yesterday.

It was fucking disgusting.

I wantedneededhad to purge and I did NOT. It filled me, the failure, up to my throat and up to my eyes, I wanted to cry but there were no tears in me to spill over onto flushed cheeks.... There was no quiet place, no safe space, no time or escape to get rid of it...So I let it remain within me, making me gain.

130.0 today.

Up an entire pound from two days ago. AFTER laxies.

Thank you, xEllex, for you are lovely. Your words did comfort me this morning. You're an angel.

I shall take my medicine until it starts to make me less of P.D. again. And when that happens, I will decrease my dosage again, for it only seems to take a few days on 12 mg to make me feel normal. Then back to 25-50 as is necessary, and so on, cycling. I don't care. It's going to work or it's not. Only one way to find out. I'm going to try to wait til Friday to weigh myself. This, as I think it, sounds damn near impossible... But I can try, huh? Just hurry up and drink a glass of water right quick just as soon as I get up, before I even go to the bathroom, because then getting on the scale will be pointless anyway. EEeeeeaaassy. ;)

I had a lovely weekend, incidentally. Other than yesterday's binge, things were positively wonderful. I apologize for being a shitty follower as of late. I have no good excuses. I'm trying to catch up as I can, but finals are coming up this and next week, and I am SO far from prepared.

Love you, skinnies! Keep strong...in whatever capacity you can.

Today, Topamax dose gets cut in half...again.

Whether or not I'm ready to stop taking it completely (and this is still, indeed, undecided, as I do not feel I have exhausted every option available), I cannot simply stop taking my pills one day, and be all better. Seizures? No thanks. Extreme withdrawal (fatigue, depression worse than I suffer now, etc.)? No, I'm good on those, too.

My initial dosage was 25 mg. After close to a week, we upped to 50. My body and mind have always been highly sensitive to medications of all kinds, but especially psychotropic drugs such as this, and my Wellbutrin. As Zen once put it, "I got greedy." I wanted more loss, faster. I wanted more appetite suppression. I got what I asked for. I don't want it anymore.

Yes, I'm admitting a mistake. Ahh! She's fucking human! Ohmyfuckingjesuschristinahotpinksubmarine, she JUST SAID IT. Yeah, that's for all you fuckhead anonymous haters who wanna go and try to throw it in my face that I'm suffering for a choice I made. WAKE THE FUCK UP. We're all suffering for the choices we make, every goddamned day. Jesus.

End rant.

By the way, if you're an anonymous reader and you're a perfectly lovely person and you just adore reading blogs and you never go about spewing hateful comments from your mouth-hole for no reason other than to satisfy some other deep-seated bitter resentment of the world itself... Then, no, that sweet little diatribe up there was NOT for you. I love you.

It seems a tad silly, cutting a tiny 25 mg pill in half. But I'm doing it. If I can continue to take this drug and retain ME...I shall do it. If not...Well, then. I will ransack the hell outta that bridge when I come to it.

(In case you haven't noticed, I already feel quite a bit better. I've been taking 25 mg in the morning for the past few days, and haven't taken it yet today. About an hour after I swallow it? I'll be a pursed-lipped zombie without a soul for approximately two hours, and then I'll spend the rest of the day oscillating between thundering [though slow-beating] heart and extreme fatigue/depression)...Yes. You're right. I AM going to talk to my doctor.)

They're going to be so not okay with my weight loss.



ANYway. I'm happy... wait...did I just say that? YES! I'm happy about 129.0 today. Why? Because yesterday I made myself eat. That wasn't fun. But I did it, and I feel less weak today, and I still lost a little. It was only about 900, but it was still something. Mostly protein shakes and yogurt. I'm not happy that my boobages have managed to shrink AGAIN. We're talking like, nearly As now, ladies. On my nearly 5'7 frame. TEENY tits. Yuck. Need some saline, stat!

I feel like I'm rambling. I'll let you skinnies go. As always, thank you for your especially supportive comments...Goodness knows I've needed them desperately throughout this entire ordeal. You're my family.

Stay lovely. <3

Broke into the 120s today...Isn't that good?

Yes.

129.6. It doesn't feel like cause for celebration, for some reason. I know it is. I think it is. I think the real reason I'm not excited is that I can't be. This medication is stealing my emotions. Sottile... You're right. About everything. All of it. I'm not myself. And Zen? You too. And Blue? You too. This is not okay. I wanted to stop bingeing, not being a person. Not being who I AM. Being thin and a faceless, heartless, emotionless, thoughtless zombie will not be worth it.

Neither will being dead or in a hospital bed or whatever, but I'm thinking more about the psychological side of this at the moment than the physical.

Apparently it's more important to me...Though a good mind is nothing without a real, live, warm-and-breathing body to carry it around, huh?

*sigh...*

I've continued to take the Topamax, despite all of this bullshit, because I truly believe(d) that if I gave it more time, everything'd balance out. I would begin to feel normal again...as normal as I get...except thin and not bingey. That would be too perfect, wouldn't it?

Well. I can't have it ruining who I am. Why? Because somewhere beneath all of this melancholy and despair and apathy is a really kickass chick.

I can't lose her.

This seems simple enough. Stop taking it.

It's really not that easy. I'll definitely have to consult my shrink first, as the withdrawal effects can include seizures, among other things. That's just the one that stands out in my mind. Scary ass shit.

Also, I have the obvious (and rather debilitating) struggle of the weight issue. To have come so far, will I be throwing it away with the cessation of this medication? Will I gain back the eleven pounds I've lost? More? Will the uncontrollable urge to binge/purge/c&s like mad return, making me even more insane than I feel now?

Pretty difficult to speculate. But to feel this way forever? I can't do it.

So.

There's that.

Cheers, to 129.6.

And love to my lovelies. Thank you all for your sincere support and genuine caring. I am so very fortunate to have friends like you in my arsenal against this shit. Thank you.
<3

BMI: 20.7. When will I see 19?

I can't remember if I told you this yet...I don't think I have. As of yesterday, around 2 PM, things are over between K and myself.

About that? I feel empty and blank and unaffected.

But I can't tell if it's real, or if it's my medication. It does that to me.

SIGH...
I'm so weak, my lovelies.

Ready for some contradiction? No? Well then, please, so avert your pretty little eyes.

Today, I am scared again, asking if it's worth it.

My fingers are freezing, my face is pale and blotchy, my lips tinged with bluish violet...not a pretty hue, either.

It's 72 degrees out.

I guess I'm just wondering if it's possible to do this, to BE this...as I must be, as I am...and still be happy? I'm sorry...my eloquence eludes me. I have no words, as my head is a swimming in this dizzy hazy dream that threatens to turn nightmarish at any moment.

If I am thin, and I finally find myself to be in control, and beautiful...but my body is constantly exhausted, weak, floundering, stumbling, ugly, really, for lack of nutrients... Will it have been worth it then?

I realize the question "Is it worth it?" comes up a lot in our minds, and within our circle here, and elsewhere. The immediate answer, without hesitation, is always ABSOLUTELY.

Because nothing...NO THING...means more than THIN. Right?

I hurt and feel faint constantly now. I am blank, apathetic, cannot find within me the lust for life for which I am known. I cannot lose this. The fact that I have come to this realization must mean that I do, in fact, value life over being thin.

Wow.

And yet I continue.

If I am frail and fragile and fairy-like, finally, but find myself too fatigued to engage in the simplest of life's offerings when I get there, then what will it have been for? So that I, alone, by myself, could stare at the reflection in the mirror, smile a wry, disgustingly wan and ashen smile at the emaciated woman looking back at me, and...be happy? Rejoice in my ... accomplishment?

I like to go hiking and camping and rock climbing. I like to go out with friends and get trashed and sing karaoke. I like to COOK! I like to EXERCISE, push my body to see how fast and far it can run, how much weight it can lift. I like to go horseback riding, and see how fast and far I can make my horse run, because it reminds me of my childhood and how it feels to fly and forget. I like to dance.

I don't like being dizzy all of the time. I don't like falling back to my chair when I stand because I nearly blacked out just now...but no, no, don't worry about me, I just got a little head rush, I'm totally fine. I don't like not being able to write a single line of moving poetry because my head is too full of emptiness.

I...

Am sorry.

In more ways than I can say.

And I'm sure I'll be changed again by tomorrow.

Lowest...weight...EVER.

1

3

0

.

0

it says to me.

I step off.

Again.

130.0.

I want to scream and sigh and jump up and down all at the same time.

But instead...I stare, and smile. A huge, stupid, silly HAPPY smile.

I'm doing this shit. 600 calories a day. 500. Then 800. Then 750. And it hurts so much, and it scares me, and it's the most insane physical euphoria I've ever experienced.

And it IS worth it.

(insert really fast-talking rambly jumbly advertiser guy's voice giving fine print after a car commercial): PhantasmagoricalDelusion is currently endeavoring to land a patent on the inability to make up her mind AND a copyright on the state of being which will heretofore be called "ConstantChangingFuckingContradiction, And NOT GIVING A SHIT."

Here's a crappy pic from my crappy camera phone.



I love you, skinnies. Yes, all of you. Don't argue. We are thin. Somewhere, in the deepest, strongest, most brilliant parts of ourselves, where there is nothing but perfection waiting to be discovered, we are all thin.

Find it.
<3

Still 131... Phew.

I'm back to 25 mg in the morning, in case you're wondering. We'll see how that goes. It's such a slippery slope, the one on which I find myself...

Who doesn't long to be utterly repulsed at every thought of eating and food and satiety, all day long, for days on end? Who among us would pass at a pill that offers complete control of mind, absence of desire and appetite, a more intense obsession with one's goals than one has ever experienced?

And yet...there's also Life to be had. Love, and a child who needs ME, because I am all she has in this world. I will not ever starve myself into a hospital because she needs me, and we will need each other forever. I will not let it get that far.

13 pounds to underweight. I will not let it get too much lower than that...

If I repeat it over and over and over, I think it might be closer to true, somehow.

Enough of the darkdepressingbullshit. :P

I'm happy today. I am. I'm giddy and flighty and energetic (despite my obvious deficiencies in vitamins, minerals, calories, etc.) and even though my skin has taken on that pale blotchiness it gets when I starve for a number of days, I feel GOOD. I'm excited. I feel a corner coming, a sharp bend up ahead, and I'm about to take this turn going 80, and totally ace it. It *couldpossiblymaybe* have a little tiny something to do with my lovely friend Dr. McAussieDreamGuyLitProfessor...

Maybe.

A lot.

GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAhhhhhhhhhhh.....

I have that light about me, that glow, that people have the morning after they get laid for the first time in ages.

Except I didn't. He's just wonderful.

Ah, but am I mixed-up mess of jumbly confusion, or what?

Oh, and in answer to your lovely comments, ladies, yes, the profile picture is me, taken a few days ago. Looking at it now, though, I realized it's not all that good... Maybe I'll take another when I hit 125. :D I kind of liked the black and white one I posted a few posts ago? The bending-over-one from the back? My ribs looked nice (for once!) but my hips are just so goddamned wide...There's not much in the way of fixing that, is there?

Meh...I'm doing the notorious leg-jiggling trick to keep myself from peeing over here...so I should probably go do that.

<3 you skinnies! Thank you so much for being so amazing!!!

131.2. You've come at last.

It's here. My lowest weight ever.

There's no stopping now.

Thank you, my lovely supporters, for remaining beside me even though I am crazy.
You are my whole world when my world wants to fall from beneath my feet... I don't care how lame that sounds. I need you, and you are here for me, and this is real. Thank you.

Thank you, to the haters out there. :P You remind me to be cynical. We all need a dose of it here and there.

The elation I was sure I'd feel with the coming of 131.-anything didn't exist this morning. I'm fairly certain it's because I wasn't surprised. I would have been positively flabbergasted with anything higher. I mean, I hardly ate. I'm completely dehydrated, despite my very earnest efforts to the contrary.

131.2. So..very..close.

I will see the 120s.

It will be marvelous.

My insanity has been getting the best of me lately, and I've been letting you in on a tiny fragment of it here, a snippet there, a whisper or a hurried snatch of a scream you thought was an echo because now it's gone and who among us can really trust her ears, anyway?

I've decided that I will revert to taking my Topamax (yes, my crazy pills) in two doses daily instead of one; 25 mg in the morning, 25 at night. Still not exceeding or falling below my prescribed dosage, which is good. I can't feel that wired. I can't. It changes me, who I am, and though the liberation from the DESIRE for food is a blessing, the constant FEAR of food is quite a different experience...not a pleasant one. I find, too, that when I am in that state, I am not myself creatively speaking...I can't write, I can't draw, or paint, or think poetically...My mind is such a beautiful, loving, whimsical place. I want to remember that. I want to bring it back, before it disappears.

No. I won't ever let it disappear.

K and I had the talk. I had full intentions of making it final. Breaking up. Why? Because I'm done. I've been trying to reach back down within me to find this love that I know existed once...and it's not there. And so I've given it time. And still nothing. And so I came here, and sat beside him, and held him, and he cried, and I stroked his hair and whispered soft words to him that sounded, in my ears, like they meant nothing at all. Hallmark movie words. Empty.

He wants to come with me to my therapy session on Tuesday, so we can talk things out there...I agreed. I know that T (my lovely therapist) knows me better than he does. She knows my real wants, and she will hold me accountable for these things, won't let me back down when the shit starts to fly. It's difficult to look him in the eyes and tell him the truth, sitting here on this couch that suddenly feels so foreign... Perhaps it will be easier to do so with her in the room.

I should go. We're seeing a movie later. Yay.

<3

Why can't I...?

...just MAKE myself eat some goddamned broccoli?

JUST EAT THE SHIT.

Like, two pieces.

A stalk of asparagus.

Do it.

Prove yourself wrong, and right, all at once.

Eat something.

Yesterday, I was a little scared.

Today, I'll probably end up being a little scared again, if I allow myself to think too much.

I'm pretty sure this medication does something to the 'crazy' switches in my brain. Flips 'em all on over into hyperdrive.

Patterns of thought, actions, emotions...all somewhat OCD yesterday. And the day before. But worse yesterday. This could be a fluke. I'm of stable enough mind to know that any medication that fucks with your brain chemistry may need up to a few months to fully balance out (or rather, your brain would need time to adjust)...I'm doing my damnedest not to jump to any dire conclusions just yet. I have a horrid tendency to do that. :/

So 132.4 today with no laxies. I weighed myself before bed last night and it said 136.4. I was not okay with that. But my body fluctuates like crazy throughout the day and night...Doesn't everyone's? I thought so, but sometimes, after reading some of your blogs here, I wonder how it's possible that you weigh in the evening and still somehow manage to retain your morning number? Like...HOW? Do you not drink water? Because you have to!! It's LIFE! lol... ANYway...132.4 with no laxies means that I'm at least 132.0 empty. I want to say lower but I won't. No jinxy, no jinxy.

Oh, so my thoughts and mind are all jumbled. I apologize. Lack of sleep means my medication makes me into a ZOMBIE. I think the combination of Wellbutrin and Topamax is a good one, but when you subtract food and rest from the mix, your body and brain go more than just a little insane on multiple drugs like that. Just a guess, based on how I've been feeling. So why am I scared?

I'll use the words I received in a text from my dear friend DreamsxandxBones to succinctly describe my fear, as she said it so well, and in so few words: "I can more easily see myself in a hospital than I can see myself ever stopping."

That's what I'm afraid of.

We can say, "Oh, no, you've still got like, pssh, 14 pounds to go before you have to worry about even being in the underweight category..."

I know this, but it doesn't matter. I'll lose it. I know I will, and then I'll want to keep going. I don't do well with finding balances, and drawing lines. I don't want 118 (which puts me at like 19 for BMI)...I want 110. I want to be frail. I want to be known for my thinness, and hated for it, and loved for it, and completely ignored and left alone all at the same time.

This is my blog and I reserve the right to be a fucking contradiction and a half.

Whatever. I was more scared over the fact that although I'd eaten very little yesterday, and was feeling exceedingly weak, exhausted, sick, dizzy, tunnel-visiony all that... I couldn't bring myself to eat. It simply did not appear as an option in my mind. Food would enter my head, and then no. No. That's not happening. Because you will eat that and it will show on the scale tomorrow and you will have backtracked and THEN what will you do? Will the resulting depression overcome you? Will you ALLOW the binge to take place of the lovely, wretchedly painful blissful starvation?

I guess...simply put...Before, I felt I had no choice when it came to bingeing. It had control over me. If I restricted, it was because I consciously chose to do so.

Now, my starvation is not a choice. It is happening TO me. And I do not get to choose if I eat, or I don't eat. I just...don't. At least, I haven't been. Things change.

It's just odd. I don't mean for all of this to sound like a complaint, because it's not. I know so many out there would kill for this mindset, and for whatever combination of factors has brought it about.

It's not lovely, and it's not yet unbearable.

...at least I'm losing?

Ah, I hardly have ANY time, but I do have AWESOMENESS...

...dude.

I'm positively exploding with giddiness and happiness over here.

Sure, of course, there's still that dark little bastard of a raincloud hanging over my right shoulder over there, reminding me of the ominous task that awaits me this weekend. The Talk. Ha. I'm trying not to build it up too much; can ya tell? ;)

Meh. The talk with K will be a talk. Frankly, I'll be glad to have it out of the way. Have everything out on the table. In case you didn't notice, I'm all about teh communications in life. ;)

So I honestly don't have all that much time. It's 6:52 in the dark and early, and the little one still sleeps soundly beside me. I've got a ton of shit to do today and the days are never long enough (seriously, can we not get someone on that already? like, fixin' that?)

My restriction as of late has been fantastic, by my standards (600 - 1000). With my daily activity level MINUS exercise (because I'm a big huge slacker and haven't been to the gym in like four or five days) I'm burning approximately 2,500 calories, just walking around campus, up and down stairs...NEVER THE ELEVATOR! Why would you??...and doing normal mommy stuff like housework and tickle parties and whatnot. Add that to the mystery number of my BMR and I'm doing quite well for myself. :D

It's become much easier not to binge over the past week, thanks mostly to the restriction habit I've formed, but the habit would never have formed initially had I not started taking the Topamax. So, thank Topa for this? (And thank my will power, cuz damn it, it's still been hella hard):



I'm loving it. That number is my new favorite...until 131 decides to come around, of course.

So that puts me at...*tiny drumroll because it's really not that big of a deal* an 8 pound loss in two weeks and one day. I had my heart dead set on 10, but shit...I'm certainly not going to utter a single complaint.

Instead, I'll just work harder.

I have so much more to say (don't I always?) and comments to which I need and want to respond, but alas, Dr. McAussieDreamy's class starts at 10 and I'd like to look as pretty as possible by then for his viewing pleasure. Ha! Ri-DIC-u-lous.

<3 you...

Feelin' uberskinny today. Winnage.

All right guys, so I'm sorry for being so drama-tastic as of late. I do apologize, with full sincerity. I wouldn't blog about it if weren't really getting to me, really hurting me so badly that I absolutely had to get it out somewhere. I figured better have it out here than out in the real world where people can see it, gawk incredulously at the crazy lady, and then immediately phone the authorities of InsanityVille to have 'em come pack me up and take me in...to...wherever it is I belong.

I'll have the talk with K this weekend, more than likely. The whole "saying 'I love you' first" bullshit isn't nearly the biggest of our issues, it's just what finally brought about the realization that I am not, in fact, getting what I need in a relationship from this one. Plain and simple. My therapist put all of this in simpler terms for me (which she is very apt to do, and does so quite often, I will say): "You've been making a lot of changes lately, finding answers to the question 'What does P.D. want?' and 'What does P.D. NEED from life, in order to be healthy, and happy?' These are things that you've neglected to address until now."

This is true. Seems silly, really. Doesn't everyone just go about their lives trying to be happy? No, apparently not. I've only very recently begun to turn a corner, decided to take a very gigantic step back to look at myself and see that I've spent years making everyone else happy except for my goddamned self. Every one of my very closest friends, and all of you lovelies, too!...you all give me such wonderful advice, and it's about time I start taking it, or at least start respecting and trusting myself enough to take it. They say you cannot truly love another until you fully love yourself. Wow. I've a lot of work to do.

ANYway. Enough of that for now. I'll let you know how things go with all of the K stuff as it happens, but I'm going to do my best to avoid obsessing over it. This girl needs no more obsession in her life than already exists within it, agreed?

SPEAKING of obsession... :D Here's something good for you...

Last night as I hid beneath my blanket, curled into a tight little ball in true hunger-pain-killing fashion, I came to a realization that's completely discordant with everything I've blogged over the past few days...Ha, so don't hate me.

I've got an insane crush on my children's lit. professor.

Ha!

I'm not even joking.

And I think it's a bit hilarious that I can be so genuinely torn up over the state of my very serious relationship with K (nearly two years of a seemingly perfect love that may not be love anymore) and yet in the half-asleep twilight of my finally quiet room, in creeps an unbidden fantasy of... (okay, so maybe not completely unbidden...lmao...SHAMEFUL! )...who else? My ((married!)) English professor. AUSTRALIAN! ACCENT! And he's a writer. And he's so witty and charming with these amazing hazel eyes and curly hair and gah, I'm giddy like an effing schoolgirl and I don't give a shit! Haha...I make myself laugh with the ridiculousness of this one. He really is quite dreamy though. Like, head in the clouds dreamy. And although I'm fully aware that nothing will ever come of the googly eyes I may make at him in class, I can say that the stress relief these nighttime imaginings bring is well worth the disappointment semester's end will surely bring, as I may never get the chance to stare so longingly at him again...Ha.

Done.

Done with that.

Ummm... 133.6!!!

Yay!!! Getting there!!

Gotta run, my lovelies. Thank you so much for all of your support, you're everything I've ever needed before I even knew I needed you. <3

I did it! I finished my essay! UGH! FUCKING Murphy's Law at its BEST!

...and by BEST, of course, I mean effing WORST.

Naturally.

Whatever. It's over and done with now, right? I've de-stressed. I've taken my chest pains and headache and the tension in my throat and the tears that threatened to smear my hastily applied (and still shitty-looking) makeup and I've dashed them against the wall and said FUCK YOU!!! I'm done with that essay, and it was damn good.

I hope.

I'm done with my chemistry exam... and I passed.

I hope.

I'm still at 134.something, and I will be less tomorrow.

I hope.

*sigh...*

I needed to scream this morning. I still kind of need to scream. Just to get it out of me. The pent up energy, the caged rage and the pain of holding it all in for too long and the sudden realization that the only ones who care to hear any of it are hundreds, if not thousands, of miles away...Yeah, I'm lookin' at you guys....

It hurts. It does. God, it hurts. I've never seen it this way before.

K doesn't get it, and he won't ever get it. He doesn't want to.

We're falling apart.

Maybe that's why I couldn't write last night. My face was blank and my mind was a wall of white and black all at the same time and my eyes hurt like they wanted to cry and all I felt was empty anger but I didn't want to tell him, for once. For once, I wanted him to figure it out on his own. He never has to figure anything out because I'm an open fucking book all the damn time.

He never says he loves me first.

He always says it back.

But I need to hear it first.

I need to hear it when I'm least expecting it. I need to hear it as I drift off to sleep. I need to hear that I'm beautiful, I need to know that he feels fucking lucky to have me.

I decided that I would abstain from telling him that I love him, just to see how long it takes him to notice. How twisted is that? Just to see how long it takes him to say it first.

If it takes til Saturday, that'll be a week since I last said it.

Fuck...

I'm sorry. This is all out of nowhere, and I know you didn't come here to read about relationship drama. That's not what I'm about. How many times have I posted? Like, 190 or something? Somewhere around there. And how many deal with drama? Like, five? Maybe. I don't count that shit. Whatever.

I still have to go back to school. On the bright side (because you have to look for one in everything, right?) this kind of shit really does a fantastic job at suppressing my appetite.

I feel like starving for days.

Or...bingeing for days.

Depends on my mood. Thin line. Just have to be careful and stay away from food, and stay on my meds.

Does there exist in this world a man capable of loving me as deeply as I love him, loving Love the way I do, thinking himself the luckiest man on earth just to find himself beside me, the object of my affection? I am such a passionate, loyal, completely and hopelessly devoted woman...When I am yours, I... become you. My life in the hands of another, I am whole, and I live for his happiness. My every breath, my every day, I spend in endless search of new ways to make him smile...It's what I do... All I ask in return is to be loved completely, and to be seen and appreciated for all that I am.

I'm a fucking catch, goddamnit.

Ha.

I'm inclined to say that K doesn't see it. Or at least he doesn't seem to.

Ah well, I should go. This is probably kind of long. I'm at Starbucks and I should be at school. I'll talk to K soon enough... I just don't want to have this conversation with him when I'm already stressed and anxious about other shit going on; it wouldn't be fair.

I love you, my pretties. I hope you are well. Stay strong, stay lovely...and uh...let's get skinny, shall we? :D

<3

I can't write this fucking essay to save my LIFE!

I cannot think, I cannot write, and I have no muse. She doesn't exist. This essay does NOT exist. This test grade is important. My head looks like this:

...and I don't even know how to begin figuring out where to start sorting it all out.

:\

For the first six hours of my day I sat blankly in front of my computer screen, expecting it to suddenly come to me, all the while enduring a constant barrage of Dora the Explorer and Go, Diego, Go!...while my darling little adventurer herself daringly defeated the devious foes of her imagination behind my back...LITERALLY behind my back, using my shoulders as a diving board as she leapt from couch to floor and back again...I am sore, and I want more alcohol. Alcohol consumption very rarely leads to stunningly eloquent or grammatically/syntactically correct English essays.

This post has no point.

I just needed to vent a little...So thank you for listening to me.

I feel like screaming and throwing something hard against...something else...that's also hard...

The first hard thing would need to break...into a kajillion tiny little plastic and metal pieces and scatter (loudly!) all over the ceramic or tile floor below. And then I would walk away...and for once, NOT have to clean up a mess.

<3

Sunshiny awards and wouldyabelieve it? Gettin' thinner!

First things first because it's just killing me to keep it inside: 134.6!!! *jumps up and down and does a ridiculous happy dance in lacy black boy shorts and a t-shirt* Good thing you can't see me do my happy dance in my slack-around clothes because there's still so much jigglage going on in these boy shorts that most ANYone would probably avert their eyes...STILL!!!!! That's a pound down from yesterday. :D Winnage abounds.

I attribute this drop to a few factors. Yesterday's intake consisted mostly of chocolate multi-grain cheerios and steamed vegetables. TONS of water. Can't even tell you how much water. Topamax has me drinking like a fish and I love it. My skin loves me for it. Apparently, the scale's rewarding me for it too. This is bueno.

Also, I had two vodka cocktails last night (made with Diet Sunkist that tasted like flat salt water, also thanks to the Topa) and my body always reacts to vodka in the same way it reacts to laxatives and most other wheat/grain products, incidentally enough...so that, naturally, led to a slightly lower number on the scale this morning. I don't mind that that's what it takes sometimes to see 134 vs. 136; after all, at the end of the day, the lower number is still the accurate one. Ah, I wish I could be that empty all of the time.

ANYway. On to the stuff you guys *actually* care about. ;)

Thank you for your lovely comments on my last post, as always...You always manage to make me feel much better than I was when I wrote it; you all have quite the amazing knack for that, you know it? Speaking of how friggin' awesome you are, I now have the opportunity to bestow upon five of you lovely ladies (only five?! how difficult will THIS be?!) the wonderful Sunshine Blogging Award...Check-check it -- Check It Out! :D



Rules of this blog award:

1. Post this logo within blog post.
2. Pass award on to 5 fellow bloggers.
3. Link to nominees within your post.
4. Let the nominees know they've received an award by commenting on their blog.
5. Share the love! Link the person from whom you received the Sunshine Award.

Sweetness. Here goes:

To the indescribable Maryhadalittlelamb, whom I will continuously attempt to describe in every comment I leave for the rest of all time... You are lovely beyond all measure; my words always seem to fall just short of conveying precisely how wonderful you are. :)

To the the lesser known (and as of yet lesser followed) AWillIsTheWay...You're simply beautiful. :D I love you to pieces. You just get me, and always have, since like three lifetimes ago. I text you a random photo of my silly face first thing in the morning and you don't question it for a second; you know what I mean and what I feel and who I am, except you say it a whole lot better than I ever could. I can't wait to buy/read/obsess over your novel. :) Anyone who isn't following her yet NEEDS to. Amazing blogger, this one.

Thirdly, to my darling DreamsxandxBones: I don't know where my psyche would be without you some days, girly. Yesterday was more of an up-and-down rollercoaster than I'd like to admit, and you were with me through all of it, just a text away. :D Thank you so much. You apologize so much for the seemingly bipolar nature of your blogging, but love, I swear it: I wouldn't have you any other way than you are! You're positively wonderful.

Simply cannot leave out my Dainty Zen. You have done so much for me, love, that a simple blog award such as this, while thoughtful enough, still could never summarize my gratitude and appreciation. Not only do I love you for all that you've done for me personally, but goddamn, girl... Your blog has to be the most hilarious shit on the internet. Seriously. I know that no matter what has gone wrong in my day or my week or even my month, I can count on this woman to make me laugh so hard that I cry, insane potty mouth and all. ;)

Umm...crap. I have like ten others that I want to fit into this "Number 5" slot. This is not fair. I'm going to go ahead and take Blogger's license with this one and just say that I tag/award the rest of you. Seriously. I can do that. Know why? Cuz I'm goddamned PhantasmagoricalDelusion and that's how I roll.

Are you surprised to hear that I still have not finished my essay for Children's Literature class?

Gonna go get on that. Sottile, I promise to get to your tagged questions next post. :) Have a lovely Sunday, my pretty skinnies!

What does a hernia feel like? Probably hurts real bad...

I feel compelled to post, and yet I feel a sneaking suspicion that said post very well may contain nothing but fail.

Ha...

Do you feel any less compelled to read now?

Hope not.

I like it when you read me.

So I awoke today with the loveliest of intentions. Veggie-colored intentions.

Mostly green, you know, like broccoli florets and sugar-snap peas, but also shades of white like water chestnuts and cauliflower; orange of carrots and yellow of squash. Beautiful nearly negative calories.

Can you sense where this is going? I'm gonna go ahead and guess you can.

500 calories of Cheerios, gluten-free breakfast bar, almond milk (deliciously low cal wonderfulness, that is!) and glutentastic oatmeal LATER, here I sit, promising myself to stick to veggies for the rest of the day.

^^^
I wrote all of that like thirty minutes ago.

My blogging keeps getting interrupted by random things. K is at some gaming thing (or at least on his way) and he just called saying he can't find the place. Googled it for him. Hope he doesn't get lost.

B just told me she needed to go potty. Two seconds too late. Then informed me that she wanted to change her clothes because they were all "wet and cold but she didn't know why." Come on, kid. You're smart. Put two and two together, here.

So we took care of that.

The television is on too loud and my stomach feels empty but I'm angry at myself for eating and so I feel like I should punish myself by starving. I'm a big mixed up ball of thoughts and emotions but I don't feel all that upset at all, almost as if I'm ... blurry. Like everything I'm feeling is all splattered out on a canvas for me to see, but then carefully covered with a sheer sheet of the finest transparent tracing paper, tissue-thin. I'm not completely affected by it. It's fine. I'm okay.

Could be worse, I guess, is what I'm saying. I could be a hell of a lot more stressed by current circumstances than I am right now, and the fact that I'm not is a good thing. My essay still isn't written and the novel I'm to read by Monday morning isn't read and my chemistry exam will come at 11 that same morning whether I've studied for it by then or not.

And I'm hungry. I should be. I deserve to be hungry. I just want to be thin.

136.4.

I need to NOT weigh unless I've taken the laxies the night prior. I'm pretty sure I've said that before. I never listen to myself.

I want to take more Topamax than I am now. I think I might. 50 mg a day isn't working. I need to talk to my doctor about it first, though. That's what responsible patients do, right? They don't just go about adjusting their own dosages as they please to suit their own whims, fucking with their brain chemistry whenever they feel like it because they figure they know better than their advanced medical degree carrying doctors...right?

Right...

But...

Hm.

Tofu.

Can I pretend it's a vegetable?

SURE, I can pretend. I'm fantabulous at pretending. I'm the proud owner of a three-year-old, after all. I have the most incredible imagination, and I love it to bits. But this ability to pretend is often the most dangerous of my diet saboteurs; it should be regarded with extreme caution. Tofu...is...soy. But...I'm going to go ahead and leave it out of the vegetable diet for today. 90 calories. Yeah.

Oh, and here's something for you. I elected to leave the gluten intolerance test out of my labs when my doctor took my blood because I honestly can't afford the $262 bill for it. I'd rather just eliminate gluten from my diet for a few weeks and see how I feel, you know? But what gets me is what I got back from the student health clinic yesterday. Apparently, my cholesterol is high. Yeah. 211. Shouldn't be any higher than 200, at the highest. I'm supposing ideal would be something under 100, then? I don't know for sure because I've never even considered it as a potential issue for me. My diet is so low in fatty food that it's been probably the least of my dietary concerns for as long as I can remember. 211. Wow. Makes me wonder what it would look like if I DIDN'T exercise 4 to 5 times a week, or if I actually DID eat like the majority of Americans out there, friedgreasyfattygrossness and all. Damn.

Anyway, I don't think there's much to worry about there, I'm healthy otherwise. And there's not a whole lot more I can do to improve my cholesterol as far as diet is concerned...ha...eat even LESS fat? I mean, granted, when I binge, I suppose I do occasionally include a few Starbucks cinnamon rolls here and there, shit like that... Peanut butter. Olive oil. But those are supposed to be okay...whatever. I'm not going to fret about it.

I just took a picture because I wanted to show you the slight sunburnage I recently acquired over my first two days of fake-n-bake tanning (I know!! I know I shouldn't. I caved. Tan fat looks so much leaner than pale fat...) but the pinkness of my skin didn't really turn out in the pic. What somehow DID manage to turn out in the picture is a tiny shadow of definition where my hips are trying to peek out...So I thought I'd share. *sigh..* Now if I could just go back and undo the SECOND bowl of cereal I just had...

(you like the knock-off Dollar Store Tinkerbell doll on the floor next to the bathtub that made her way into that shot? :P)

Argh...P...D...
STOP BEING SO AVERAGE!!!

That's the voice I have today. It's been saying that for the past few days. Every time I walk past any remotely reflective surface, I see her. The average girl. Not too fat, but definitely not thin...just.. meh. Plain. Average. Chubby here and there... she's got some okay spots, I guess, but mostly, overall, nothing at all remarkable to make her stand out from the rest of EVERYBODY ELSE.

I'm going to go now before I start off on yet another tangent (I've got 'em stockpiled for miles, lemme assure you).. ;)

Gotta put the little one down for her nap anyway. Then on to the essay writing! Let's hope my muse is feeling generous with her presence this afternoon...
<3

PS - Crapfactory, I just got through an entire post (amidst ridiculous distraction and in inordinate amount of stress caused by one very demanding and LOUD little girl...this post took me like three hours...JEEBUS!) and now I am just realizing that I'll need to create an entirely different post dedicated specifically to the sunshine award thing... Passing the love along is definitely worth more of my time and attention than I have had this whole morning. Will have to post again soon! :D

About time for some negativity, don't you think?

Okay, so no one wants to hear me whine, I know this.

I'll keep it short.

I should be writing a 1,500 word essay for my Children's Literature class anyway. Thing is...

I feel fat today.

Big fucking surprise, right? Don't we all? I mean, honestly, Captain of the Blatantly Muthafuckin' OBVIOUS, what in the goddess's good name is new?

Fat.

Huge.

Probably because the scale is up from yesterday. Probably because I'm bloated (gluteny gassy nonsense). Probably because we're working on self-portraits for our finals in art and today (of all days, when I'm not wearing makeup and I'm looking like a landwhale) we got to take pictures of each other to draw later.

AWESOME.

GAHD.

Fortunately, the finished product will be a shoulders-up shot.

*sigh*

Here're a few of the pics they took:



That one came out all right. Guess I'll probably use it. The others showed far too much of my arms and my stomach...and the *shudder* extra EVERYTHING that accompanies each of them.

I'm sorry. Whineage is never fun, is it? Not fun for anyone.
Yep, it rhymes. I'm a poet and I didn't even realize it.

Actually, I did.

Ummm...I bought myself some chocolates. Fail. Right? I thought it'd be damage control. Is that rationalization? Perhaps. They're 44 calories each, 78% dark cacao. They're tiny squares, all wrapped individually, so you can have one a day.

This will be a challenge.

You know what else will be a challenge?

Getting myself through the rest of this day.

Love you, lovelies.
<3

Schmexy dreamland dreams...About HERSELF?!

First, I wanted to thank you all so very much for the amazing comments on my sappy-lovey-dovey-woe-is-me-cuz-my-heart-can't-figure-itself-the-fuck-out post. Really? You honor me TOO much. :D When I wrote that thing, my thoughts felt so scattered. In rereading it, I know I could write with much more feeling, much better grammar, and explain myself in more explicit language, were I given more time to think and listen to myself. To be honest, it felt like the words were all wrong, like my ideas escaped just before I was able to put them into sentences, so instead I just word-vomited all that I was thinking through my fingers into my computer (ew, sounds messy, huh?) Ugh, and I even misspelled "compliment." I mean, yes, that's correct, but in the way I used it in that post, it should have been "complement." I am so friggin' anal about spelling errors (only in my own work) it's insane.

Anyway. Thank you. It was incredibly comforting to read that you all understood what I was feeling, or could at least relate to it in some way. If not yet, I'm sure one day you will. Zen, I find it so ridiculously difficult to believe that you've never been in love. You're so wonderful! It will find you. :) Just be sure not to beat it off with a stick when it shows up, yeah? ;) <3 you.

I had the most wonderful dream the other night. AMAZING. In the dream, I woke up from a deep sleep and pulled back my comforter, feeling a little warm. I looked down at my legs and ...holyfuckshit...There'sthinspoinmybed...My legs looked INCREDIBLE. They were...like...My thighs weren't even touching as I was LAYING DOWN. I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped to my own mattress right there in my dream. I jumped out of bed and hopped in front of the mirror. My friend. My enemy. The soothsayer, and the deception artist. MY mirror. In MY room. With my lilac colored walls and scattered pictures of B and K and too much laundry for one overloaded full-time EVERYTHING woman to EVER clean...There was my reflection. And I was Perfect.

My lovelies...I can't even describe to you how beautiful that woman was, in that mirror. I stared. For a good solid five minutes, I allowed my eyes to trace every curve and line and angular shape as it connected bone to bone to shimmering, gleaming bone. Skin, taut, was smooth, and radiant. The eerie blue of B's nightlight cast glittering shadows that danced playfully between the dips and ridges of ribs that pretended to be mountains, falling fast and hard to their final swooping descent into a valley of almost-nothingness between my hips. GOD, my hips. They were angelic. Like nothing I'd ever seen. I remember feeling sheepish at this point, shy, as if I were a hidden voyeur at some secret, seedy peepshow in a rundown motel, discovering this beauty, this fairy, a diamond in the rough. It wasn't me, it couldn't be me...The thighs, long and lean and soft and hard all at the same time...The sight I beheld in that mirror took my breath away, made me laugh, even, in sheer glee, and sent shots of adrenaline through my stomach and chest with enough force to leave my heart still beating hard as I awoke...

Yes, I woke up. But it wasn't one of those, "Aw, shit, it was just a dream! That blows." No, it was more like, "God, that was incredible!" and then it makes the rest of your day feel lovely-type things. Yes. Thought I'd share.

Back to real life.
So the scale is creeping up again.

I'm not sure if this is due to the fact that Topa is notorious for influencing back-up issues of the gastrointestinal variety (read: if you eat anything heavy, it very well could stay with you all week/month/til your next child is born) or if it's because my body is balancing out and already becoming accustomed to the 50 mg dosage. If this is the case, of course, my first inclination is to take more. Problem is, the good doctor JUST okayed 50 *yesterday*... Yeah. If you recall, he initially prescribed 25, and I kinda-sorta-pretty much decided I was going to up myself to 50 allbymylonesome because I'm impatient and I like results NOW gahdanggit.

Well, I saw results.

Now I'm watching them slowly halt...and reverse...

My diet has been consistent, and my exercise has been good. Cardio hasn't been daily, but at least 4 to 5 times out of the week (which is apparently all that normal people do? I dunno...something I read...not to say that's okay, just statin'...).

Ah, I'm so tempted to kick it up 75 mg. You know? Just one more increment of 25. But these tiny pills are MIGHTY. NOT to be fucked with. And I don't want to underestimate their power. Yesterday, I drank approximately 120 ounces of water (over 3.5 litres) and found myself STILL thirsty by evening. This stuff really takes it outta you. But you know, I don't mind. As long as I'm sure to have water with me all the time, it's totally cool. Heh, and as I slipped into bed last night K couldn't help but notice, too: "Hey, your skin is...like, really soft. Did you start using some new lotion or something?" I haven't, but I'd noticed the change as well. I can only assume it's all that extra hydration. Kickass.

*sigh...* The question remains. Sure does. Don't pretend that it doesn't. Do I take more? More than I'm allowed? Shit. I don't know. I'll probably wait...maybe.

136.6ish. .8ish. Can't really figure out which. Obviously, we'd all like to go with the lower of anything, but we don't like to lie to ourselves, now do we?

Ha!! What a question!

I'm not going to answer that.

I should go. I have a consultation today to see if I should get tested for gluten intolerance. I've suspected this for quite some time, but it's only now that I've decided to go ahead and have a doctor look into it. I know it's nothing serious, whatever it is, but meh...couldn't hurt to use the University's discount health system while I have it at my disposal, right?

Oh, and guess what?

I LOVE YOU!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

<3

Holy crap, did I lose a follower?

...Or am I imagining things? :( Awww... That's sad...

Anyway. I guess I can't make everyone happy.

Besides, it's YOU guys that are the REALLY cool ones, right? :D

RIGHT!
So you wanna hear something awesome?

135.8. Yes, that's after the effects of the laxies this morning, but still. I'll take it.

Right in the middle of a rather rambly email to Zen earlier, I found myself doing a little math (this doesn't happen often, as Math and I have a long, sordid past and we rather DESPISE one another) and came to find that 135.8 means I've lost a little less than five lbs in five days. That...makes me happy. I guess I really do get so caught up in my sheer impatience, my desire to see the 120s NOW NOW NOW that I'm failing to relish these victories, these small (and yet great) wins. This is good.

Dang it! I'm going to need to escape to write what I want to write...I'm sitting in my uncle's office, trying to prepare myself mentally to tell you all about the K thing. With my uncle walking about the house, I can never tell when he'll just walk in here and behind me... *annoyed errrgh sound*

Maybe it's not such a big deal about K. It's just that I'm a HUGE romantic. I love LOVE. SO much. I need happily ever after. It's my ultimate goal in life. I need to find my soulmate, fall madly and deeply and fully devote myself, get married and have a house and a garden and children and our careers that compliment our wonderful life together and we'll travel the world when our little ones are no longer little and life will just be...lovely. Filled with happiness because we have each other. Obviously this is very flowery and idyllic and far too perfect to be real, but you get what I'm saying. In my mind, finding my true love = true happiness. Over money, over possessions, over thin.

Yes.

I said it.

Granted, having both would be ideal. And I shall have BOTH.
But given the ultimatum between the two, my choice would be HIM. The one to whom I could give all of myself, and expect and accept as much in return. I'm such a sap.

ANYway. So when I was 14, I fell in love for the first time. Early, huh? Yeah, but I know it was love. Because it's still there, for the same man. He's now 25, and I'm 23, and it's never gone away. I still talk to him on occasion, and though we were only together for a few years, I was always certain that he was the one I'd marry, eventually. Like life was just having its way with us until we'd be free again, to find our ways back...to US. Because WE were...Good. What we had was more than good. What we had was amazing. What we had was enough to keep giving me liquid butterflies and weak knees even now, more than a decade later, hundreds of miles between us, through mere reminiscence. This worries me.

I have no place, no ground to stand on, no room to be jealous of the fact that he now writes beautiful poetry for someone else, and no longer for me. That he plays his guitar and sings love songs to another girl...and fuck, my heart aches in my chest because I know NOTHING of her and yet I fucking KNOW with all of myself that she has no CLUE what she holds in her arms! He is SO incredible, so strong and passionate and beautiful, and tender and mild inside, and sweet, and afraid sometimes, and he needs to be cradled and reminded that it's okay to cry (even though the world doesn't want him to) and then he will, just a little, and then he'll love you even more for letting his tears wet your hair...His lips...they used to be mine! God damn it, I can't stand to think of how all of him used to be mine...The passion that I feel right now for this man is only nearly eclipsed by the immense guilt in knowing I shouldn't feel it at all! For fuck's sake...

A year and nine months. That is how long I have loved K. Not that long, and yet I feel like I've already pledged my life to him. Why? We've not even spoken seriously of marriage. Why do I feel that an investment of time and emotion such as this automatically implies a lifelong commitment? I truly cannot bear the thought of abandoning him, nor do I wish to do anything of the sort. I do love him, and dearly. I do...My eyes sting with fresh tears just imagining a life...even a single day...without him.

My old flame...Perhaps that is what he should remain. They say that you'll always have that one, the one that got away, the first love. You'll always have feelings for them, but that's where it stays.

I just...I don't know why I can't forget him.

*sigh...*

I must go, my lovelies. Thank you for listening to this, my little oddity of a love post. Stay beautiful!
<3

P.D!! Where the motherFRICK have you BEEN?!

That's certainly what I'd be wondering if I were you.

Well, here I am. It feels like I've been absent forever, but I know I haven't been. I think part of that is due to the fact that I've been really quite HORRIBLE at reading my favorite blogs in the universe (yours) and so therefore I feel completely and utterly detached from all that is important in this world...Yes. That surely must be it. I am missing out on so much; your lives are just living themselves out, passing me by, day by day, and I have no earthly CLUE what is going ON with you lovelies! It really does have this odd time-warping sort of effect on me...Perhaps I'm a big lame-o. Perhaps.

So I fear I'll have to give the shortest version possible of all that I have to say, just because little B is standing here singing random cutesy kiddie songs I've never heard and eating as much Easter candy as she pleases, making it very difficult for me to hear myself think. That, and it's nearing her bedtime and we have brand new library books tonight!!! Yay! I love library night. We usually keep the same books for about a week or so, just so that she can get a good grasp for the words and vocab and all that, but I always love the first night the best. Nothing like fresh books, children's lit or otherwise. ;)

I just took video of B doin' her do. I think I'll post it for your enjoyment.



I don't know what she's saying in the kitty one. It's something like, "My kitty is a scratcher, a scratcher, she always goes like this: Yum Yum! somethin' somethin'..." :P

The other one is "A tooty-tah" which is some ridiculously cute little dance song she learned at daycare. Arms out, elbows back, feet apart, knees together, bottoms up, tongue out, eyes shut, turn around..." Good shit, that is.

ANYway...Camping was good. Well...scratch that. Camping was okay, I guess. I got horrible sleep it rained early Sunday morning, so we got that nice, nastyhothumid weather trekking back to the parking spot. Upside was that our total hike (much of which was steep and rugged uphill rockclimbing type hiking) was about 8 miles...woohoo! And with my super awesome technique of eating very little (huh? huh? you like that?) added to the strenuous working out of my entire body as I scaled multiple mountains and caverns and whatnot, I am happy say that I weighed in at 136.0 this morning. I was 139 on Saturday, no? I've gotten pretty bad about my record keeping. I war with myself; still trying to maintain my disordered side to a certain extent because I'm not ready to part with it...just not ready to let it go...and yet making small adjustments here and there to try and make me feel less neurotic overall. I ...have no idea if that makes any sense. Having a three-year-old singing (as you can imagine from the video above) right next to you while you attempt to blog coherently is incredibly ...impossible.

Argh...I have this whole long post in my head that I'll have to save for tomorrow. I'm afraid of the subject matter, to be honest. It has very little, if anything, to do with my ED. It has everything to do with my life and my future. Love. K. And my past. Love. Relationships. If that kind of talk bores you to tears, you have been forewarned. But if you tend to totally dig that soap-opera/reality TV type drama, then please, do tune in. I'll probably be needing your input.

Oh, and I didn't mention...I ate today...far too much. I consumed ice cream again, and candy, and I think it's because I saw that 136 and it felt good and that dreaded "you deserve a reward" thought entered my head. In my mind, the ultimate rewards still = food. This must change.

I took my second little pill for the day a little earlier in the evening, hoping to perhaps alleviate some of the night sweats and bad dreams I've been experiencing as of late. My resting heartrate (usually at a relatively low 46 BPM or so) is now hovering at 88. My temperature is a constant 98.7 (normal for anyone else, but my normal temp is 97.6). I feel normal, other than the persistent aura of heat radiating from within me, and the occasional heartburn that wells up all out of nowhere, reminding me that my stomach is empty and full of nasty acid. Right now...well, all I can think of is food, and yet I know to eat would surely mean to make myself nauseous. I shall not do it. Instead, I will post this, hope that you lovelies are well, and lament the fact that I am not able to hide away with my laptop for hours and catch up on your lives, your happenings, your thoughts, your pains and pleasures, tragedies and triumphs...Alas, it is bedtime for my angel.

Until we meet again, my pretties...
<3

EDIT:I...just...inexplicably...ate a banana. A ginormous banana.

I don't get it. Because I wasn't hungry and now my stomach hurts and I will weigh that much more tomorrow and that little bit more WILL matter...because it always matters. A little.

But only a little, right?

*sigh* Methinks a lax or three will help me feel ALL better. Love you.

ANNND...Chocolate tastes like vomit. We are officially in Hell.

...or is that Heaven?

That's a tough question to answer.

So I'm not completely removed from civilization just yet (obvy) but I will be shortly (it's 8:01 in the AM and K wants to leave by 9...we shall see if THAT goes down as planned!) and I just couldn't keep my tappity little fingahs away from teh Bloggah!

Why, yes! I AM addicted AND crazy. You win a prize.

No, not a cookie.

Why?

Because cookies make you fat and they taste like dog shit.

The kind of dog shit you used to find on the playground as a kid, all parched and white and powdery; the kind that made you wonder wtmf even though you OBVIOUSLY wouldn't be wondering such acronyms as a sweet liddle chillun on the playground.

That's kind of what my delicious Jillian Michaels 100% whey protein double chocolate shake tastes like today...

And I'm kind of glad it does. Ya know?

Like poo...and barf...and reassurance.

At least it lets me know these itty bitty pills are doing something besides making me feel completely neurotic.

So now I don't feel like eating breakfast. That'd usually be a good thing, I suppose, but I tend to need some kind of nutrients before a two day hike. I'm almost positive the seemingly perpetual morning breath feeling will subside here in a few hours and I'll be able to eat something on the road (this is a three hour road trip!)...Geez...I just realized that...Good thing K and I really love each other a boatload, huh? :P No radio in my car...no air conditioning...Just me, and him, and the sound of traffic and wind and hopefully, as we leave the bounds of the concrete jungles and many, many car dealerships and FAR too many overpriced habeeb gas stations and disgustingly alluring fast-food joints...hopefully it'll be just us and the raw, untouched beauty that is the gorgeous west Texas hill country. Lovely. I'll be sure to take pictures!! :D

Oh, and in case you were wondering about the weight thing...this stuff definitely raises your BMR. I usually burn about 1200 calories a day, just laying in bed and living (according to all of those basal metabolic rate calculators, but who the heck can trust anything these days?). As it is now, I'd guess I'm burning quite a bit more, as my body temperature is increased, as is my heart rate. Curious as to "how much I could get away with," I tried having a few things I wouldn't even DREAM of eating on a normal day over the past two. I've had a bagel, for example. Totally forbidden. Chocolate. Ice cream. No fried foods, that's just disgusting. No meats, either. Well, I had shrimp and chicken, so...yeah. Anyway. You get my drift. Point is, I should have gained tons with everything I've been eating.

Nothing.

139.0.

So. Logic says that if I start restricting like a good little girl and stop stuffing myself beyond reason, I should see a loss. Stop bingeing? What an novel fucking concept! Isn't that the purpose behind these drugs in the first place, P.D.? SERIOUSLY? Yeah. It is.

Sorry I'm so rambly. And I'm sorry if this stuff bores you to tears. I'm just so enthralled by it all, and I felt like sharing. I promise I'll stop, just as soon as the newness of it all wears off and I'm back to "normal" again, whatever that is.

I love you dearly! Can't wait to return to you.
<3

Help! I...I can't taste my wine!!

Yep. My Lambrusco tastes of alcoholic ocean water. And yes, I'm still drinking it. These pills put me on edge. Momma needs her comedown, ya hear?

Yeah, the Tope's doin' its thing...to certain things. It's kind of temperamental, it would seem. Or my brain is. Usually, my breakfast tastes like salty cardboard (MUSHY cardboard, if it's oatmeal, and it usually is). As the day wears on, however, food begins to taste wonderful again, and I eat again. Though my appetite has drastically decreased (I tend to have a sense of fullness most of the time, despite having very little in my stomach), food is still CONSTANTLY on my mind. This is to be expected, of course. A pill won't fix my ED. We know this. Medicine won't cure an obsession. If only, right? All the same, taking Topamax is supposed to aid in my endeavors to overcome my binge eating/c&s problems gradually, in conjunction with continuing therapy. I have to do my part. Read: I HAVE TO STOP BINGEING.

Zen, thank you. Your last comment really has helped allay many of my fears and apprehensions concerning all of this over the past couple of days. I have to give it time. It's only been a few days! It feels like forever already! And I can't be so impatient. I know that with my Wellbutrin it took weeks to really build up in my system so that the full effect really began to show...I HAVE to give this the proper time to do the same. Here I am, messing with my own dosage like I have some kind of medical degree...Tweaking it here, deciding when and how much to take...wtf, P.D.? Honestly? This is your BRAIN CHEMISTRY we're talking about here! Leave it to the professionals, right?

Yes.

I just..I've been eating. A lot. And dealing with all of the little side effects of this new drug in the only way I know how. Eating even more. I've got terrible heartburn for much of the day, hot flashes, headaches, irritability, and bouts of anger that arise out of nowhere, and just as quickly subside and make way for huge dips into unexplained depression...I like to think of it as my body's way of adjusting. It raises your body temperature so I'm always hot. Conversely, it inhibits sweating so you have to be really careful not to get TOO hot, and to drink tons of water. I'm not gonna bore you all with all this stuff. :P You can read the FDA's version of it if you want all that nonsense.

Ah well, K is waiting for me to go play some zombie board game with him, so we're gonna go do that. Tomorrow, we hike! And camp. That should be fun. Little B is at Grandma's for the weekend, so no worries there. Yay, outdoorsy stuff! :) I wish I could write more...I feel like there is just so much more in me, and so little time...all the time.

I hope you all are well, and I will miss you dearly in my absence from technology over the next couple of days.
<3