No news to report.
Unless you want to count the fact that I've pretty much bruised my throat from the inside because I was desperate for a purge (which you should all know I'm terrible at, and like most of you, I loathe being terrible at things) in a public restroom and knowingly stupidly shoved a spoon down my insides.
Purge may or may not have been useful as I was later forced to eat a cheese quesadilla, which was far worse than the vegetable soup... but I "accidentally" left my smoothie on the sidewalk so that was "wasted."
I guess it might also be noteworthy to mention I found my old allergy reports when I was going through my medical records to apply for long term private health insurance (ah!), and I am allergic to a SHIT TON OF FOOD. Bananas, eggs, strawberries, almonds, shrimp, wheat, soy beans, other mundane things that I can't remember... anyway, this gives me a great excuse to go back to Vegan (because I'm lactose intolerant as well) without everyone getting on my case, and I've gone without cheese and yogurt and bread for so long and not missed it that it might not be hard this time.
Food is the enemy, trying to rip us apart from the inside out. Resist it. We will fight food in the market place, in the streets, and in the cities.
We will fight food until the struggle against food is won.
P.S. It's 5:30AM here and I still haven't gone to sleep. I think it's because I found my Hoodia again (!!!) and popped some at about 10:00PM. oops. Worth it though.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
No news to report.
Monday, July 20, 2009
I once had a conversation with a dear ED friend about how much we are able to mask ourselves in a cloak of illusion, people walk by thinking we're the good students, the best friend, the one that has it all together. It isn't until they start to see our bony arms and sallow faces that something is amiss. It is us, the EDs who can see the lies, hypocrisy and sorrow that leaks out in everyone else around us.
Why doesn't anyone see our pain until it is literally shoved in their face like our worst of worst binges?
For the record, I submit my "Facebook Quotations" I have listed for several years on my public profile that are seemingly out of character, but have also never garnered a single raising of the eyebrow.
"If a man does not keep step with his companion, perhaps he hears the beat of a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away."
"I always tell the girls, never take it seriously, if ya never take it seriously, ya never get hurt, ya never get hurt, ya always have fun, and if you ever get lonely, just go to the record store and visit your friends."
"I am flawed if I'm not free."
"Perhaps when we find ourselves wanting everything it is because we are dangerously close to wanting nothing."
“I start to feel like I can’t maintain the facade any longer, that I may just start to show through. And I wish I knew what was wrong. Maybe something about how stupid my whole life is. I don’t know. Why does the rest of the world put up with the hypocrisy, the need to put a happy face on sorrow, the need to keep on keeping on?... I don’t know the answer, I know only that I can’t. I don't want any more vicissitudes, I don't want any more of this try, try again stuff. I just want out. I’ve had it. I am so tired. I am twenty and I am already exhausted.”
Sunday, July 19, 2009
I've been spending an inordinate amount of time at my friend's house. Her mother has gotten quite possessive over the rescued kitten. I, however, am not afraid to become a psychotic bitch and stop eating in order to acquire said kitten. So I guess I'll have to keep visiting and throwing fits until I get my way.
Friend recently purchased the Sims 3 which I am too poor and have a lack of attention span to buy. We made my little avatar. I'll try and get a screen shot as I think it looks quite like me. I made her as thin as possible.
It upsets me that she can't get any thinner, and if she doesn't eat, she dies. This game takes things too literally.
Gave myself 5 characteristics that would be the driving force behind my Sim:
This combination would give my Sim the following Life Goal . . . "Perfect Mind, Perfect Body"
EVEN MY VIRTUAL PERSONA HAS AN EATING DISORDER.
She's extremely fussy, definitely has some sort of OCD about things, and is always working out and making salads. Savory the Sim also enjoys playing Chess, but right now I'd like to get her fitness up to par, so her logic skills can wait.
This is why I can *never* have children.
Saturday, July 18, 2009
Quick post, because I'm applying for my Student Visa and I haven't properly read and commented on blogs yet which makes me feel selfish for updating.
The kitten returned to the house, and I went with my friend to get her fixed and now she's recovering. Hopefully I'll be able to keep her. We'll see. She's frightfully thin.
In my world, I'm at about 112. Everyone in my life thinks I'm getting frightfully thin as well. I'm just worried about losing my muscle definition. I can't afford a gym membership (all my money is going down the drain towards stupid things, and I just spent $80 on getting the kitten fixed and vaccinated) so I'm hoping at least to save up for some free weights because my arms feel like jelly... but I'm paranoid, so maybe they aren't. I place my happiness on my arm muscles I think.
I seem to be around people during meal times too often, and they get upset if I refuse food, so I've been trying not to weigh unless I feel like it's a good scale day. There's really no escape as I can't stop visiting my friend since she's got the kitten recovering at her place, and I can't stay at home because my mother gets upset when I "forget" to eat too often during the course of the day.
I'm feeling stretched too thin.
It's not like I want to live this way. I still feel ugly, and I look at myself in the mirror and feel hideous. Maybe even uglier than before. If my arms are resting against my torso, I feel as though they are huge, like I haven't lost any weight at all. And I glance at my face and I just look tired.
Yesterday someone told me to smile more. This of course made me want to kick him in the teeth and ask him to try and smile after that kind of blow, but I simply raised my head and said "Oh sorry, I'm just pensive." I hate people. My mother asked me if I'm happy living this way. I don't know. Do I know any other way to live?
I suppose I don't really know how to gauge my happiness. Looking back, I point to days of "happy" when I have gotten dressed and dolled up (with hair and make-up) and felt thin, and beautiful, and on top of the world. Really superior. Walking along, thinking about how everyone around me is so dumpy and fat and homely looking, not even caring about themselves, probably going home to their dumpy lives, while I'm going to do some fun and fabulous thing.
But was I really happy that day? Or was I just manic?
What is happiness? And what do I have to smile about, other than the obvious?
Thursday, July 16, 2009
I swear to God my mother has the Food Channel going on the downstairs TV and the one in her bedroom upstairs. It's like surround sound in this house.
I loathe that stupid network. I just want to stab every single skinny bitch cook on there.
Obviously, I'm in a mood.
Actually, I'm flirting with dangerous territory. Have been for a few days now. I'm sure it will pass, but I won't worry you all with the sordid details. Suffice it to say that I can't wait to get out of my mother's house. Ah, I sound like a broken record.
Last night I wanted to rescue a lost kitten that I'm practically positive was my split apart soul mate. It walked up to me when I was outside at my best friend's house and wanted to play and rub up against me. It hung around her house all night, and when we closed the door, she kept sticking her paws under the door and mewing at us to let her in. Of course, I called my mother (AKA Satan) and she started screaming at me. Meanwhile, I was holding the kitten and had named her. Tomasina.
At this point I started eating my feelings (well, I started eating my feelings earlier in the day because I was upset that I was forced to eat lunch and dinner... but now I was absolutely allowing myself to eat without regret).
I'm sure my split apart kitten belongs to someone, I'm not worried about that. Though there is a good chance she might be attacked or eaten by a coyote before she finds her way home. No one understands, I guess, that other than blogging, I feel very little connection to other humans. Little Tomasina was one living breathing thing, who wouldn't judge how depressed, manic, or eccentric I was. It wouldn't matter what I ate, how often I ate, or what I looked like.
I suppose this is why I've always felt more connected to pets than I have to people. They just don't give you that look when you say things like "No, I'd rather stay in bed today" "Do I have to eat? It gives me a stomach ache." "I'd feel much better about myself if I was just 10 pounds lighter" "Sometimes, I really hate everything."
I guess it's time to put on a happy face for a judgemental world.
Monday, July 13, 2009
I'm stressed out today. Decided to plan out a "binge" after 48 hours without anything but water.
But my heart really wasn't in it. And it really didn't feel like binging when I felt full after my first quesadilla and I didn't want to eat the veggie burrito but was informed by an outside party I was being wasteful if I didn't eat it.
Haribo peaches and "Urban Detox" drink.
1400 calories. Over a few hours. (side note: my weight keeps going up and down. I don't know what to make of it, except beg someone to hide the scale).
Food doesn't make me feel alive anymore. The whole thing was forced and gross. I have a tummy ache and I didn't even eat much. My teeth hurt. I'm not even lying to my mother when I tell her all these adverse affects that happen to me when I eat.
Things that used to look good just... don't.
I would say it sounds like I'm depressed. But I feel like I'm very intimately acquainted with that emotion, that illness. What is this?
I'm. Not. Hungry.
But I'm always starving.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
I think I lost a follower... or two. Whatever I did, I'm sorry. I thrive on others' approval. To those of you with me, thank you for continuing to read my ramblings and being patient with me in my recent hiatuses :) I try to keep up with all your blogs and comment as much as possible!
In recent news. Paula Deen (the mother, not the celebrity chef) has some sort of stomach flu! She's locked up in her room all day. Hooray. I can finally practice my ED in some privacy, and not a moment too soon, as all this food she was making me eat was starting to make me go crazy and showing on the scale.
Nonetheless, I've left little food-wrapper-presents out for her to find later when she finally comes out of her bedroom, and I plan on leaving a few more things so I can properly fast but maintain her stupid rules of 1200calories (as if I'm not almost 23 years of age!).
I should feel sorry for my mother. But I don't. Mainly because I've made myself sick with laxatives so many times that I don't think the flu is a big deal anymore, and right now I wish I could purge my body of all the gross food she's forced me to eat so I'm a tad jealous that I don't have food poisoning or something along with her.
It's like Ferris Beuller's Day Off in this house, without all the excitement.
I went out with my friend for a little bit of fresh air (and to sweat out some water weight in the 110degree heat) so I was able to convince said friend and my mother that I'd already had dinner with the other party. So devilish.
0cals for today. Beautiful.
The only food I'll allow near me is the "Mystery Pecan Pie" Candle sitting on my nightstand marketed by Paula Deen (the celebrity chef, not the mother).
Saturday, July 11, 2009
I am *so* grossed out by me.
Paula Deen and I have been arguing about my eating for the past 24 hours. I didn't calculate the fact that a 60 year old woman from the South weighing 180 pounds at 5'2" probably has loads of experience counting calories... she looks more naive than she is.
Turns out she realizes I've been eating less than 100 calories a day for a little bit now, and called me out on my "starvation diet" yesterday. So now I have to play dumb and fake normalcy and try to keep from screaming at the creeping (no not creeping, JUMPING) numbers on the scale. Goodbye 112 and 113.
Last night she made me a carby cheesy bready pastay meal that I totaled at 570. At least I had only eaten 15 grapes that day. I still went up to 114.5. I'm dying inside.
So what am I doing now?
WAITING FOR OUR FUCKING PIZZA TO GET DELIVERED!
Goodbye anorexia. It was nice dancing with you for like 4 days. I hate being here. I wish we could just go out, then I could hide my food in napkins, and pockets, and purses, or toss things under the table and get away with eating practically nothing. There's no hiding in a household where I've grown up eating meals in front of the television.
But shout out to all my lovely across the pond... I've started watching "Jeeves and Wooster" with Steven Fry and Hugh Laurie and it makes me want to be British, born a handful of decades ago, and completely filthy rich. Go watch it. It's a Brit comedy that's not too intelligent for us yanks.
Something I am obsessed with doing, like multiple times a day (besides weighing) is calculating my BMI... I'm doing it now. I really need to put the site on my little browser dashboard. I'm between 5'6.5" and 5'7" so I always calculate both and feel good/bad at the same time. Right now I'm between 18.2-17.9. Seventeen is a good number. Anything higher is shit. But then I rationalize that I'm weighing myself with clothes on. I haven't been able to sneak the scale anywhere to disrobe.
OMG OMG OMG OMG OMG. I am not going to survive here for the next 2.5 months. Dear readers, I finally know the pain and torment many of you go through with your parents. I am sorry I did not understand the gravity of the situation. I wish I had a settee or a fainting couch. I need one.
Pictures in a few days (I should take them now before pizza arrives, but I'm afraid Paula will think I'm eccentric... so I may have to wait until after my weight settles back down).
Friday, July 10, 2009
I FINALLY have internet connection and access to my own computer again. It was too risky any other way.
--- And I have *some* tales to tell---
But I'd feel guilty if I didn't at least attempt to get caught up on my reader's blogs first! So a quick list:
1) Saw 113.2 on the scale today.
2) But, I'm still huge.
3) Moved out of my old apartment, TR into a new one in the city, and me back home with Paula Deen for the next 3 months before I begin my London adventure.
4) Moving totally fucked me up, and I have pictures to prove it, but I've somehow managed to get some little upper arm muscles (in between real muscles and those scary muscles old people have that you're like "PUT YOUR SHIRT BACK ON")... so I need to start doing barbells instead of freeweights
5) I HAVE MISSED EVERY SINGLE ONE OF YOU SO MUCH AND I'M SO EXCITED TO BE BACK!!!
My last thing I'm leaving you with is a technical tip, but I don't think I'm triggering anyone because if you're already seeing a psychiatrist or have access to meds than you are already down a path... Wellbutrin+Topamax+Prozac. MIRACLE. I haven't binged ONCE, and I don't even have to count calories except I do because it makes me feel safe. I've tried each one individually and they've been kind of helpful, but like combined, it's almost scary how well it works. It could probably work in a good way for anyone who wants to recover as I was able to eat a few normal days without thinking I was a failure or order extra food to punish myself.
Anyway, I felt guilty keeping these little pills to myself. Prozac is FDA approved to treat bulimia and binge eating, and scientists are developing a weight loss drug that's basically a combination of Wellbutrin+Topamax, so I think my cocktail makes sense.
Better post later, can't wait to get caught up!!
All my love.