...I found this short "poem" whilst perusing some of my earliest entries. Apparently this is fun for me, as I've spent the better part of an hour doing it.
I vaguely remember writing this. It came out of nowhere and found its way through my fingers and into this blog before I even knew what was going on. I'm glad I wrote it down though, because I kind of like it...despite the obviously depressing tone. What can I say? My best work is born of pain.
Measuring success in the loss she can see,
she calculates worth with seamstress' tape.
Clavicle, shoulder, elbow, wrist,
flesh so wretched they cannot escape.
You're fooling yourself, fueling yourself,
the food you consume destroys you as well.
Your fingers that search for ribs through skin
serve you most poorly in a long crawl to Hell.
Monday, January 4, 2010
Just a quick thought...
This should be short, but I just reread my first post EVER and thought it funny how much about me has changed since I started this.
I wrote in my first post (which happened to go on FOREVER):
"I am not anorexic."
Ha. Pssh. Riiiight. Denial, anyone?
That is all I have to say about that.
"My BMI is 22.7."
Nope! Not anymore! 20.7. Yay for progress, huh?
When I reach my goal weight of 110, my BMI will be 17.5. Yeah... You're right. I don't see myself stopping there either.
Time will tell.
<3
I wrote in my first post (which happened to go on FOREVER):
"I am not anorexic."
Ha. Pssh. Riiiight. Denial, anyone?
That is all I have to say about that.
"My BMI is 22.7."
Nope! Not anymore! 20.7. Yay for progress, huh?
When I reach my goal weight of 110, my BMI will be 17.5. Yeah... You're right. I don't see myself stopping there either.
Time will tell.
<3
Sometimes I like to suck in...(con picturas)...
This morning has been decent. Oatmeal. 130. I'm down with that.
Still haven't weighed, as per my promise to myself to wait until tomorrow. I nearly did! I was so tempted. I know better. One more day of good, healthy restriction and some cardio...I should be good to weigh in the morning. Ah...So scared...and yet so curious. Curiosity kills cats, you know.
I just halved a piece of Christmas chocolate with my daughter. That's approximately 30 calories, if my calculations are correct. And they should be. Meh. It was worth it.
My attempts at renewed positivity are paying off, I think, little by little. I feel far less inclined to binge, and that gets easier every day I make it without one. Schweet deal.
Ah yes, and the hipbones! They're returning...slowly. Oh so slowly. But we all know that fat that is lost gradually is fat that most often *stays* gone. So. I'm all right with this as well.
I will freely admit, before the gods and all of you lovelies and everyone else who cares to listen to me, that I am a camera *whore.* Yeah. Blame it on the Leo in me, if you'd like. Attention seeker. Spotlight hog. Look at me, I'm not skinny yet...a few days ago I would have described myself as utterly repulsive, but we know I'm working on that, so I'll refrain. All the same, I've got that whole I-want-you-to-see-me-and-tell-me-that-I'm-doing-well, because I thrive on that shit, yo.
Pathetic? Maybe. Despite the fact that I'm not all that keen on my body (ha! There's the biggest understatement of 2010 for ya), I do enjoy taking pictures of my progress. Allows me to look back in a few weeks, months, years, whatever, and see where I started. Motivates me to keep it up. If it bugs anyone that I'm sharing them here, lemme know... I just know, as the consumer of many a blog, that I actually rather enjoy seeing photo insets every once in a while. These were taken this morning. :)
(Oh yeah, and the one where I'm obviously sucking in... I won't deny that. I do it, every once in a while, just to see where I'll be when I lose about ten or twenty more....;) Hey, if it makes ya feel good then it can't be that wrong, right? Maybe...)
The other ones, I'm *obviously* not sucking in. Yeah, because I look much more repuls-....err... I mean... I look much less thin...in the others. I'll get there. I know I will.
Thank you, ladies! You're all so wonderful. I'm more grateful for all of you than I can even say. <3
Still haven't weighed, as per my promise to myself to wait until tomorrow. I nearly did! I was so tempted. I know better. One more day of good, healthy restriction and some cardio...I should be good to weigh in the morning. Ah...So scared...and yet so curious. Curiosity kills cats, you know.
I just halved a piece of Christmas chocolate with my daughter. That's approximately 30 calories, if my calculations are correct. And they should be. Meh. It was worth it.
My attempts at renewed positivity are paying off, I think, little by little. I feel far less inclined to binge, and that gets easier every day I make it without one. Schweet deal.
Ah yes, and the hipbones! They're returning...slowly. Oh so slowly. But we all know that fat that is lost gradually is fat that most often *stays* gone. So. I'm all right with this as well.
I will freely admit, before the gods and all of you lovelies and everyone else who cares to listen to me, that I am a camera *whore.* Yeah. Blame it on the Leo in me, if you'd like. Attention seeker. Spotlight hog. Look at me, I'm not skinny yet...a few days ago I would have described myself as utterly repulsive, but we know I'm working on that, so I'll refrain. All the same, I've got that whole I-want-you-to-see-me-and-tell-me-that-I'm-doing-well, because I thrive on that shit, yo.
Pathetic? Maybe. Despite the fact that I'm not all that keen on my body (ha! There's the biggest understatement of 2010 for ya), I do enjoy taking pictures of my progress. Allows me to look back in a few weeks, months, years, whatever, and see where I started. Motivates me to keep it up. If it bugs anyone that I'm sharing them here, lemme know... I just know, as the consumer of many a blog, that I actually rather enjoy seeing photo insets every once in a while. These were taken this morning. :)
(Oh yeah, and the one where I'm obviously sucking in... I won't deny that. I do it, every once in a while, just to see where I'll be when I lose about ten or twenty more....;) Hey, if it makes ya feel good then it can't be that wrong, right? Maybe...)
The other ones, I'm *obviously* not sucking in. Yeah, because I look much more repuls-....err... I mean... I look much less thin...in the others. I'll get there. I know I will.
Thank you, ladies! You're all so wonderful. I'm more grateful for all of you than I can even say. <3
Sunday, January 3, 2010
A bright new day...with pictures!
It's 8 degrees out now.
At least it's warming up.
Still probably won't venture out of the house today; the sun lies and welcomes you out with all of its brilliant promises of warmth...I won't fall for it. The cold would certainly do me some good, I'm sure, what with the calorie burnage and all...but I'd rather not.
The scale misses me, I'm sure. I'm sticking to my guns, though...Not weighing until Tuesday. Dang it. I should be starving and working out in preparation for this. Instead I'm at goodness knows how many calories consumed and absolutely ZILCH burned for the day.
My measuring tape told me something nice this morning. I think it's nice. She's underhanded herself some days.
25.6 inches around my waist. 26 the last time I checked, about a week and a half ago. Thing is, I look fatter. I do. I'm flabbier. My theory is that my obliques are far less defined than they were before, weaker, as I haven't been exercising regularly, and so therefore the tape has less resistance right around my waist area...less muscle, smaller waist. Doesn't matter. They're being replaced by fat. That's not cool, yo.
I want to be in the 120s by the time I get home. If that's true...If I really *want* that, I should be down there exercising right this minute, rather than feeding my addiction to blogs of considerable interest to me. Yes, I'm hooked. I can't stop reading. Problem is reading doesn't burn calories. Unfortunately. Were that the case, I'm sure a good number of us wouldn't have a single care in the world concerning our weight.
I thought I'd post some pics right quick of our New Year's Eve adventure. Ha. Just for laughs.
Bf was the only one who ended up sleeping on the bathroom floor. I guess bingeing before binge drinking is a solid idea.
I guess I'm done for now. On a side note: I really...
Really...
REALLY...
..can't wait to be thin.
Oh, it'll be lovely.
<3
At least it's warming up.
Still probably won't venture out of the house today; the sun lies and welcomes you out with all of its brilliant promises of warmth...I won't fall for it. The cold would certainly do me some good, I'm sure, what with the calorie burnage and all...but I'd rather not.
The scale misses me, I'm sure. I'm sticking to my guns, though...Not weighing until Tuesday. Dang it. I should be starving and working out in preparation for this. Instead I'm at goodness knows how many calories consumed and absolutely ZILCH burned for the day.
My measuring tape told me something nice this morning. I think it's nice. She's underhanded herself some days.
25.6 inches around my waist. 26 the last time I checked, about a week and a half ago. Thing is, I look fatter. I do. I'm flabbier. My theory is that my obliques are far less defined than they were before, weaker, as I haven't been exercising regularly, and so therefore the tape has less resistance right around my waist area...less muscle, smaller waist. Doesn't matter. They're being replaced by fat. That's not cool, yo.
I want to be in the 120s by the time I get home. If that's true...If I really *want* that, I should be down there exercising right this minute, rather than feeding my addiction to blogs of considerable interest to me. Yes, I'm hooked. I can't stop reading. Problem is reading doesn't burn calories. Unfortunately. Were that the case, I'm sure a good number of us wouldn't have a single care in the world concerning our weight.
I thought I'd post some pics right quick of our New Year's Eve adventure. Ha. Just for laughs.
Bf was the only one who ended up sleeping on the bathroom floor. I guess bingeing before binge drinking is a solid idea.
I guess I'm done for now. On a side note: I really...
Really...
REALLY...
..can't wait to be thin.
Oh, it'll be lovely.
<3
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Laxative hell...
...well then. I won't be taking any more ex-lax for a few days. Ugh. Seven at once??... Stupid. Lesson learned.
So I took some photos of myself today. Part boredom, I suppose, but I find that the mirror tells a different story than the camera lens does. No, I'm not crazy. It's true.
In taking pictures and looking at myself from a different angle, I see that I'm not the utterly disgusting creature of obesity that I spend most of my time thinking I am. I can also more clearly see exactly where the majority of my efforts should be concentrated...and I can see that there is, indeed, much more work to be done. Months worth. Years, even. But hey...life is long, right?
I thought I'd post some of them here for your consideration. Comments are not required, of course, but the ones you leave are certainly appreciated, and taken to heart, whether they be encouraging or critical. Honesty is always the best policy. :P
Thanks again, lovely ladies, for all that you are. Stay strong, stay beautiful... Think thinly. ;)
<3
So I took some photos of myself today. Part boredom, I suppose, but I find that the mirror tells a different story than the camera lens does. No, I'm not crazy. It's true.
In taking pictures and looking at myself from a different angle, I see that I'm not the utterly disgusting creature of obesity that I spend most of my time thinking I am. I can also more clearly see exactly where the majority of my efforts should be concentrated...and I can see that there is, indeed, much more work to be done. Months worth. Years, even. But hey...life is long, right?
I thought I'd post some of them here for your consideration. Comments are not required, of course, but the ones you leave are certainly appreciated, and taken to heart, whether they be encouraging or critical. Honesty is always the best policy. :P
Thanks again, lovely ladies, for all that you are. Stay strong, stay beautiful... Think thinly. ;)
<3
Monkey bread...srsly?
Family breakfasts.
fml.
At least my coffee was calorie-free.
Fuck.
Caramel. Nuts. Bread. Sugar.
Disgusting, right? Delicious and evil and tempting and FATTENING.
*sigh...* I don't even have the energy to be as passionately upset about this as I should/could be.
I've decided to do it again. I will abstain from weighing myself for three days. Today is the first day. I won't like what I see, so I'd rather not ruin my day(s) until I have the chance to fix this.
I'm so dragged down lately that getting up on that shoddy elliptical machine is harder than usual...God, I can't wait to get back to my normal gym! Despite the less than ideal equipment here, I *have* to make some cardio happen today. Gotta. No choice.
So I don't know if I can accurately convey the ideas flitting about my jumbled head at the moment (much distraction over here... Saturday morning cartoons, after all, and the little one is adamant about her Phineas and Ferb fix...Gods bless the Disney Channel), but I'll try.
Every day I give in and binge (or even eat more than I should) feels like a major failure. With this feeling of failure comes the sneaking whisper: "Give up. Just give in. Eat. Be happy, just like EVERYone else."
Of course, I'll never believe that I can be like everyone else. I know better by now.
But still. What I'm wondering is this: Why does every day that doesn't end as planned feel so...fail? And FINAL? Like, this was my last chance or something...Because I was weak today, I'm destined to be fat and unhappy forever? Where's the logic in that? Sure, tomorrow's another day. A whole new day. So why doesn't that fact console me in the slightest? Why doesn't it make me feel better to know that I can try again tomorrow?
Where's the deadline? Where's the sense of urgency? Why do I feel like I've LOST the game altogether when I go over my calorie limit a few days in a row... It feels like I've been slipping down the side of this mud-covered slope, struggling to keep my head above the muck and now...Now I've fallen all the way to the bottom again. So what? Why can't I pick myself up, dust it all off and try again? Why does it feel impossible to go on, when I've done it before? The feeling of having tried SO hard for so long, only to ruin it for myself this way (there's that word again: "ruin," as if it's all fucking hopeless and shit...)...Why does it feel like it's inevitable that I'll fail eventually, let's just get it over with. Fuck that.
Fact of the matter is, I'm probably overreacting. Ha. Me?! Imagine that.
I haven't ballooned back up to my starting weight...I haven't suddenly, as if by some evil magic, returned to 160 lbs overnight. I've probably put on like three or four pounds, reasonably speaking, over the course of four days of all out bingeing, reckless abandon and defiance of Ana and all that she does for me. Ingrate.
As I said before, I haven't weighed myself today, nor will I do so tomorrow or the next day. Even so, I can almost already guess what the scale (inaccurate as it is) will tell me. Probably about 132 or so. That IS, of course, if I manage to stop this ongoing eating that seems to have overtaken me as of late...Come up behind me with a bottle of chloroform and a blindfold, gagged me and bound me in weakness and desire for indulgence...Turning me into something I'm not, a piggish glutton, only concerned with suffocating the beast behind my eyes, within my already bloated belly... "Eat more...." But it's not even eating at that point. Sneak into the kitchen...wait til everyone leaves. They can't see you do this, they'll stare at you in horror and confusion as you go through the process... Open mouth. Insert food. Chew. Swallow. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Til it's gone. All of it. Dispose of it. Take it all. No tasting, no enjoyment, just the pain of my insides as my body screams at my brain and my hands to stop, fucking stop, you're hurting yourself...
Hurting myself in so many ways...My chest and stomach ache from remaining FULL for nearly 36 hours straight. My insides burn with that familiar ex-lax burn...and still I feel stuffed. Happy New Year indeed.
Ugh. Thanks for letting me rant.
I'll probably be back later. <3 you all.
fml.
At least my coffee was calorie-free.
Fuck.
Caramel. Nuts. Bread. Sugar.
Disgusting, right? Delicious and evil and tempting and FATTENING.
*sigh...* I don't even have the energy to be as passionately upset about this as I should/could be.
I've decided to do it again. I will abstain from weighing myself for three days. Today is the first day. I won't like what I see, so I'd rather not ruin my day(s) until I have the chance to fix this.
I'm so dragged down lately that getting up on that shoddy elliptical machine is harder than usual...God, I can't wait to get back to my normal gym! Despite the less than ideal equipment here, I *have* to make some cardio happen today. Gotta. No choice.
So I don't know if I can accurately convey the ideas flitting about my jumbled head at the moment (much distraction over here... Saturday morning cartoons, after all, and the little one is adamant about her Phineas and Ferb fix...Gods bless the Disney Channel), but I'll try.
Every day I give in and binge (or even eat more than I should) feels like a major failure. With this feeling of failure comes the sneaking whisper: "Give up. Just give in. Eat. Be happy, just like EVERYone else."
Of course, I'll never believe that I can be like everyone else. I know better by now.
But still. What I'm wondering is this: Why does every day that doesn't end as planned feel so...fail? And FINAL? Like, this was my last chance or something...Because I was weak today, I'm destined to be fat and unhappy forever? Where's the logic in that? Sure, tomorrow's another day. A whole new day. So why doesn't that fact console me in the slightest? Why doesn't it make me feel better to know that I can try again tomorrow?
Where's the deadline? Where's the sense of urgency? Why do I feel like I've LOST the game altogether when I go over my calorie limit a few days in a row... It feels like I've been slipping down the side of this mud-covered slope, struggling to keep my head above the muck and now...Now I've fallen all the way to the bottom again. So what? Why can't I pick myself up, dust it all off and try again? Why does it feel impossible to go on, when I've done it before? The feeling of having tried SO hard for so long, only to ruin it for myself this way (there's that word again: "ruin," as if it's all fucking hopeless and shit...)...Why does it feel like it's inevitable that I'll fail eventually, let's just get it over with. Fuck that.
Fact of the matter is, I'm probably overreacting. Ha. Me?! Imagine that.
I haven't ballooned back up to my starting weight...I haven't suddenly, as if by some evil magic, returned to 160 lbs overnight. I've probably put on like three or four pounds, reasonably speaking, over the course of four days of all out bingeing, reckless abandon and defiance of Ana and all that she does for me. Ingrate.
As I said before, I haven't weighed myself today, nor will I do so tomorrow or the next day. Even so, I can almost already guess what the scale (inaccurate as it is) will tell me. Probably about 132 or so. That IS, of course, if I manage to stop this ongoing eating that seems to have overtaken me as of late...Come up behind me with a bottle of chloroform and a blindfold, gagged me and bound me in weakness and desire for indulgence...Turning me into something I'm not, a piggish glutton, only concerned with suffocating the beast behind my eyes, within my already bloated belly... "Eat more...." But it's not even eating at that point. Sneak into the kitchen...wait til everyone leaves. They can't see you do this, they'll stare at you in horror and confusion as you go through the process... Open mouth. Insert food. Chew. Swallow. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat. Til it's gone. All of it. Dispose of it. Take it all. No tasting, no enjoyment, just the pain of my insides as my body screams at my brain and my hands to stop, fucking stop, you're hurting yourself...
Hurting myself in so many ways...My chest and stomach ache from remaining FULL for nearly 36 hours straight. My insides burn with that familiar ex-lax burn...and still I feel stuffed. Happy New Year indeed.
Ugh. Thanks for letting me rant.
I'll probably be back later. <3 you all.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Have you ever...?
Have you ever felt so confident in your ability to walk along the cliff's edge that you decided it'd only be a step or two more if you went ahead and stepped off?...you'd probably fly, after all...
I've been trying to write this post for a while. It's 2:31 PM on the first day of the first month of the first year of a new decade.
Talk about your time for fresh starts, huh?
Last night was an absolute abomination. I truly don't want to even begin trying to count the calories in last night's binge. Suffice to say... well, I've been seeing quite a bit more of Mia lately than my good friend/worst enemy, Ana. I don't know where she's been lately, that Ana. It's like she's decided to go ahead and take her holiday break right along with everyone else. She's probably off chillin' in Cancun *right* now, gracing the sunny beaches full of skinny bodies with her glowing presence. She knows I don't deserve her attention right now. Oh Ana, please...Please don't give up on me. I honestly am so, so sorry.
The problem is this (and I'm positive that my words will fail me here, as they have been apt to do as of late for some ungodly reason...I hate it):
Yesterday, I had one of the *THE* worst days I've ever had in terms of depression and self-loathing. It was horrible. Suicidal thoughts, anyone? No, I suppose not technically suicidal, if I'm not contemplating actually offing myself. Just imagining how much better life would be if I didn't have to live it anymore.
I should have blogged about it yesterday. The level of pure, unadulterated self-hatred was astounding. And the resulting madness was pretty impressive in its own right. I am my own undoing nearly every single time I come undone; this I know. My introspection goes too deep and suddenly I'm analyzing my every thought and emotion like it's my job. Too bad I don't get paid like my doctors and therapists do (when they could never do it like me).
"I'm just so sick and tired of feeling like shit ALL the time. I hate hating myself this much. I am literally *THIS* close to seeking help for this, finally... I just want to feel normal...I can't stand despising the woman I see in the mirror EVERY...SINGLE...MOMENT...of every hour, every day..." That was me yesterday. That's not even the half of it. Words don't work...ya know?
I know what it is to be happy...I do...just NEVER about myself. I can be happy when my daughter throws her skinny little arms around my neck in the purest embrace and whispers that she loves me...I'm the happiest when her smile is the direct result of something little I did, just for her. I know happiness when I consider how incredibly lucky I am to have such an amazing man in my life, and that I am the only object of his love and devotion is something for which I will FOREVER be grateful. When my cold nose finds warmth in the smooth place on his neck behind his ear...I am *HAPPY*...So happy.
When I look in the mirror and see...god...all that I see... My eyes search for some kind of something, any indication that I'm smaller, that I'm making progress, that the binge from the previous day hasn't completely wrecked the tiny castle of hope and thin that I've been building for so long...All I see is hatred for the disgusting failure of a human body I inhabit. The bulging fat beneath flawed skin, stretch marks deep and purple where my flesh had to expand to hold that tiny miracle I love every day...Cellulite that's been there for years, mostly due to heredity... God, the fat... The deafening absence of thin. I choke up, my throat closes to pull hot tears back and away from my eyes. I can't cry. Not when I'm at home. Not when someone might see and wonder and inquire, because then I'd have to lie, and I'm a horrible liar.
I hate seeing the jiggling masses of my thighs when I walk, when I step. I raise my arms above my head and fold my elbows across my face, hiding my eyes. Hiding the mirror from my eyes. Beautiful eyes, everyone always used to say. Blue. What's so great about blue? Perhaps the color does distract you for just a moment from all of the ugliness that surrounds them...They have their merit.
As my arms pull up, I see them. The ribs...they're there. They exist. Imagine that. They're beautiful and pure and yet dull, now, as I've put on at least a few pounds of fat (I know it must be...I just know it). That scale is so unreliable. I can't trust it. Perhaps my reckless bingeing as of late is somehow related to the fact that I feel that I'm growing so much fatter anyway...may as well shove some more food down there to hurry the process so I can feel something, anything...even if it's more disgust, more hatred.
I took some pictures yesterday, as I was contemplating the fact that I've probably simply gained fat and lost muscle tone over the holiday break. Perhaps I'll post them. Just for shits and giggles.
Ugh. I have so much to write, and yet here I am, sitting in bed, feeling guilty about not being sociable. We're still at the friends' house. Last night's celebration was a blast, indeed, as I had decided prior to coming over that I'd give myself this LAST day to have whatever I wanted. I wanted to try and eat and drink and be merry with everyone else. Maybe try to remind myself of what everyone else feels on an occasion like this.
*sigh...* I'm not everyone else.
I ate and drank to my heart's content. Then...Binge time. Eating what you'd like is one thing... sneaking upstairs multiple times while everyone else is still down playing Rock Band so that I can eat and eat and eat and eat more and more until my stomach literally feels like it's going to reject anything else I attempt to swallow. Eating what I like...having some appetizers and a brownie and some wine or liquor or beer and champagne like everyone else...
Letting my ED take over... Different story. I ate until it hurt. Then I ate more. Then I drank more. And I didn't purge.
I woke up this morning, dehydrated and fatigued and dizzy. My abdomen was swollen, and as I stood up, my heart pounded hard in my chest. My pulse skyrocketed. I imagined my bloated body putting such a strain on my heart that it couldn't keep up with digesting the spoils of the night prior AND keeping me upright.
My poor babe...He outdrank himself last night. Beat his own record... at least any he's set for as long as we've been together. Spent the night on the bathroom floor, after his friend and I spent a few hours consoling him through the vomiting. Ha. Is it completely wrong that, as I sat there stroking his back and listening to him puke up nearly a liter of Long Island Iced Teas, I thought multiple times of how I'd love nothing more than to be able to purge as *quietly* as he throws up? Barely a sound out of that guy, I swear. Not fair. :P I'm terrible.
I'm sorry if this has been somewhat incoherent or rambling...incongruous, even. I'm a bit out of sorts. Yes, even more so than usual.
So. Where do we go from here? Have to pick up the pieces and push on. You only fail when you refuse to get up, right?
Since this morning's fail breakfast (I won't even go into it...Crepes? Peanut butter? Syrup? Let's leave it there) of about 700 calories, I haven't eaten. I don't plan on eating anything else for the rest of the day. I know it doesn't necessarily "balance" out, but the thought of putting any more food into my body is nearly enough to make me sick.
As the day of our departure to go back home draws nearer and nearer, I find myself both relieved and excited to get back to my beloved gym and daily exercise routine...and of course, slightly disappointed that I'll have more than likely merely maintained my weight since we left nearly three weeks ago. God, it would have been so good to have gotten down to the 120s by the time I got home. Shit, who knows? With my resolution to do away with binges ENTIRELY, maybe I'll be able to turn this around and come out on the other side of 130. That would be...wonderful.
Ah, I've just realized that I'm probably boring half of you to tears. I'm sorry. I just had to take this opportunity to write, as my daughter is mostly entertained by the kids here and I actually have a few moments to myself and my thoughts...Dangerous, I know.
I've done quite a bit of blog fishing today, and managed to pick up some nice ones to follow for the new year. I know, the list of the blogs I follow is growing immensely, but I promise, I do find time to read them all at some point or another. It's just so nice to know that I'm not completely alone in my lunacy, my obsession.
Thank you all, and happy new year. <3
I've been trying to write this post for a while. It's 2:31 PM on the first day of the first month of the first year of a new decade.
Talk about your time for fresh starts, huh?
Last night was an absolute abomination. I truly don't want to even begin trying to count the calories in last night's binge. Suffice to say... well, I've been seeing quite a bit more of Mia lately than my good friend/worst enemy, Ana. I don't know where she's been lately, that Ana. It's like she's decided to go ahead and take her holiday break right along with everyone else. She's probably off chillin' in Cancun *right* now, gracing the sunny beaches full of skinny bodies with her glowing presence. She knows I don't deserve her attention right now. Oh Ana, please...Please don't give up on me. I honestly am so, so sorry.
The problem is this (and I'm positive that my words will fail me here, as they have been apt to do as of late for some ungodly reason...I hate it):
Yesterday, I had one of the *THE* worst days I've ever had in terms of depression and self-loathing. It was horrible. Suicidal thoughts, anyone? No, I suppose not technically suicidal, if I'm not contemplating actually offing myself. Just imagining how much better life would be if I didn't have to live it anymore.
I should have blogged about it yesterday. The level of pure, unadulterated self-hatred was astounding. And the resulting madness was pretty impressive in its own right. I am my own undoing nearly every single time I come undone; this I know. My introspection goes too deep and suddenly I'm analyzing my every thought and emotion like it's my job. Too bad I don't get paid like my doctors and therapists do (when they could never do it like me).
"I'm just so sick and tired of feeling like shit ALL the time. I hate hating myself this much. I am literally *THIS* close to seeking help for this, finally... I just want to feel normal...I can't stand despising the woman I see in the mirror EVERY...SINGLE...MOMENT...of every hour, every day..." That was me yesterday. That's not even the half of it. Words don't work...ya know?
I know what it is to be happy...I do...just NEVER about myself. I can be happy when my daughter throws her skinny little arms around my neck in the purest embrace and whispers that she loves me...I'm the happiest when her smile is the direct result of something little I did, just for her. I know happiness when I consider how incredibly lucky I am to have such an amazing man in my life, and that I am the only object of his love and devotion is something for which I will FOREVER be grateful. When my cold nose finds warmth in the smooth place on his neck behind his ear...I am *HAPPY*...So happy.
When I look in the mirror and see...god...all that I see... My eyes search for some kind of something, any indication that I'm smaller, that I'm making progress, that the binge from the previous day hasn't completely wrecked the tiny castle of hope and thin that I've been building for so long...All I see is hatred for the disgusting failure of a human body I inhabit. The bulging fat beneath flawed skin, stretch marks deep and purple where my flesh had to expand to hold that tiny miracle I love every day...Cellulite that's been there for years, mostly due to heredity... God, the fat... The deafening absence of thin. I choke up, my throat closes to pull hot tears back and away from my eyes. I can't cry. Not when I'm at home. Not when someone might see and wonder and inquire, because then I'd have to lie, and I'm a horrible liar.
I hate seeing the jiggling masses of my thighs when I walk, when I step. I raise my arms above my head and fold my elbows across my face, hiding my eyes. Hiding the mirror from my eyes. Beautiful eyes, everyone always used to say. Blue. What's so great about blue? Perhaps the color does distract you for just a moment from all of the ugliness that surrounds them...They have their merit.
As my arms pull up, I see them. The ribs...they're there. They exist. Imagine that. They're beautiful and pure and yet dull, now, as I've put on at least a few pounds of fat (I know it must be...I just know it). That scale is so unreliable. I can't trust it. Perhaps my reckless bingeing as of late is somehow related to the fact that I feel that I'm growing so much fatter anyway...may as well shove some more food down there to hurry the process so I can feel something, anything...even if it's more disgust, more hatred.
I took some pictures yesterday, as I was contemplating the fact that I've probably simply gained fat and lost muscle tone over the holiday break. Perhaps I'll post them. Just for shits and giggles.
Ugh. I have so much to write, and yet here I am, sitting in bed, feeling guilty about not being sociable. We're still at the friends' house. Last night's celebration was a blast, indeed, as I had decided prior to coming over that I'd give myself this LAST day to have whatever I wanted. I wanted to try and eat and drink and be merry with everyone else. Maybe try to remind myself of what everyone else feels on an occasion like this.
*sigh...* I'm not everyone else.
I ate and drank to my heart's content. Then...Binge time. Eating what you'd like is one thing... sneaking upstairs multiple times while everyone else is still down playing Rock Band so that I can eat and eat and eat and eat more and more until my stomach literally feels like it's going to reject anything else I attempt to swallow. Eating what I like...having some appetizers and a brownie and some wine or liquor or beer and champagne like everyone else...
Letting my ED take over... Different story. I ate until it hurt. Then I ate more. Then I drank more. And I didn't purge.
I woke up this morning, dehydrated and fatigued and dizzy. My abdomen was swollen, and as I stood up, my heart pounded hard in my chest. My pulse skyrocketed. I imagined my bloated body putting such a strain on my heart that it couldn't keep up with digesting the spoils of the night prior AND keeping me upright.
My poor babe...He outdrank himself last night. Beat his own record... at least any he's set for as long as we've been together. Spent the night on the bathroom floor, after his friend and I spent a few hours consoling him through the vomiting. Ha. Is it completely wrong that, as I sat there stroking his back and listening to him puke up nearly a liter of Long Island Iced Teas, I thought multiple times of how I'd love nothing more than to be able to purge as *quietly* as he throws up? Barely a sound out of that guy, I swear. Not fair. :P I'm terrible.
I'm sorry if this has been somewhat incoherent or rambling...incongruous, even. I'm a bit out of sorts. Yes, even more so than usual.
So. Where do we go from here? Have to pick up the pieces and push on. You only fail when you refuse to get up, right?
Since this morning's fail breakfast (I won't even go into it...Crepes? Peanut butter? Syrup? Let's leave it there) of about 700 calories, I haven't eaten. I don't plan on eating anything else for the rest of the day. I know it doesn't necessarily "balance" out, but the thought of putting any more food into my body is nearly enough to make me sick.
As the day of our departure to go back home draws nearer and nearer, I find myself both relieved and excited to get back to my beloved gym and daily exercise routine...and of course, slightly disappointed that I'll have more than likely merely maintained my weight since we left nearly three weeks ago. God, it would have been so good to have gotten down to the 120s by the time I got home. Shit, who knows? With my resolution to do away with binges ENTIRELY, maybe I'll be able to turn this around and come out on the other side of 130. That would be...wonderful.
Ah, I've just realized that I'm probably boring half of you to tears. I'm sorry. I just had to take this opportunity to write, as my daughter is mostly entertained by the kids here and I actually have a few moments to myself and my thoughts...Dangerous, I know.
I've done quite a bit of blog fishing today, and managed to pick up some nice ones to follow for the new year. I know, the list of the blogs I follow is growing immensely, but I promise, I do find time to read them all at some point or another. It's just so nice to know that I'm not completely alone in my lunacy, my obsession.
Thank you all, and happy new year. <3
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