Skip to main content

Too fat for sex

I’ve just eaten a plate of rice with soy sauce because I was craving the saltiness. There is now nothing in my shared fridge at university which belongs to me :)
I binged on a packet of cookies and a tub of Ben and Jerry’s this morning, but didn’t even enjoy a single mouthful. It was just compulsion I think.
Last night, at about 5am, wringing my hands in madness at not having any junk food to binge on, I walked a mile up to my local 24 hour supermarket and ate a Sneakers Bar and a whole loaf of bread (yes, a whole loaf) on the walk back home again. To tell the truth, I had gone to try and buy some sea salt as well in order to do my first salt water cleanse. I could only find yucky table salt and didn’t fancy torturing my body with that.
So, tomorrow morning I intend to search all the health food shops and supermarkets that I can in order to find some real sea salt!

I’ve put on over half a stone over the Christmas period, which is, for want of a better word, disgusting. This is the fattest I have ever been. It’s grotesque.
With the renewed intense disgust at myself has come, of course, a great deal more self-harming. As well as more symmetrical lines across my arms, I now have lovely purple scars that read: ANA on my left thigh, and FAT on my right thigh. – You gotta admit, that is really sexy. I hope they fade fully.

I’ve booked an appointment to see my doctor again tomorrow morning. I hate having to go to the doctors to talk about my mental illness. However I say it, it just sounds stupid. I feel like some silly, dramatic teenager who wants attention and thinks it’s cool to be fucked up. The last time I went to see her was about early November. I was just having really bad mood swings, and the depression side was pretty mortifying, but I remember telling her - with a slight note of pride in my voice - that I was hardly bulimic anymore and hadn’t self-harmed in over two months. I wanted to go back on the anti-depressants to keep my mood stable and make sure I didn’t go back to being as bad as I was before. She nodded and reassured me that she thought it very unlikely that I would return to my worst.

She was wrong. And it’s my fault. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK!

I’ve been thinking, maybe I binge eat as a method of self-harm. I can’t help thinking, that in my subconscious is a voice saying, “I hate myself so much, I am going to punish myself even more by getting even fatter, and hate myself for doing it.” When I make myself sick, I see the stodgy disgusting concoction that junk food makes inside my body. I see how much my stomach must hate having that inside it, so, in order to punish myself, maybe that’s why I eat it again…

On New Years Eve I was up to my old tricks.
The Flirt of the Year Award goes to…. Me! Congratulations.
I was only going to a friend’s house party, but it still took me at least two hours to get ready because I looked so fat. I must have tried on every dress I owned before casting it aside again. In the end I settled for a loose black number. I still looked fat, but well, I was, so it’s my fault.
The second I walked into the living room, I saw Simon and my heart sank.
Simon and I have shared a couple of kisses here and there before, and a week or so before Christmas had some interesting conversations…and to cut a long story short, I had pretty much promised to have sex with him the next time we met.
I was really looking forward to it…when I was slim and sexy…not when I was as fat as this.
So anyway, like I said, my heart sank when I saw him because I had not expected him to be there! If I had…well…I’d have made much more of an effort and definitely have made a better attempt at starving myself!
We kissed…but I didn’t have sex with him. I know he wanted me to leave with him, but I couldn’t, because I was too fat. I COULDN’T BECAUSE I WAS TOO FAT!!! Fuck. I felt really, really bad. I don’t know why to be honest, because he is an absolute slut, and gets different girls every week, but still, I had promised to sleep with him, and led him on the Entire night, and then at the end, I curled up on the sofa in some other guy’s arms and dozed until Simon left. I can’t help feeling really bad. And I really want to apologise…

I led another guy on that night. You know how conversations lead on from one thing to another. I think he was quite drunk though. He was coming on to me like the hornyest creature alive. He promised me amazing sex anytime. I said thanks and left it there.
The best part of the whole night though was at the end when I was curled up on the sofa with my friend’s arms around me. It was just so, so lovely. I could have stayed like that forever. I do fancy him a little, and had flirted with him a fair bit that night as well, but…oh, that feeling, it was just perfect.
That is better than sex, definitely.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"Here I am, sane and dry"

"I stayed there, staring at myself in the glass. What do I want to cry about?.... On the contrary, it's when l am quite sane like this, when I have had a couple of extra drinks and am quite sane, that I realize how lucky I am.
Saved, rescued, fished-up, half drowned, out of the deep, dark river, dry clothes, hair shampooed and set. Nobody would know I had ever been in it. Except, of course, that there always remains something. Yes, there always remains something....Never mind, here I am, sane and dry, with my place to hide in. What more do I want?....I'm a bit of an automaton, but sane, surely - dry, cold and sane. Now I have forgotten about dark streets, dark rivers, the pain, the struggle and the drowning...."
Jean Rhys, Good Morning, Midnight

Love. Sick.

And finally, today, I cried; soaked the tissues and pillowcase like I had been longing to do for weeks. The most I had been able to manage recently had been dry crying with a scrunched up face and aching heart. Such relief now to be able to physically release emotions other than vomit.

What words do I use to write about the last few weeks? Crippling, torturous anxiety, studying for finance exams, exercising and exercising, bingeing and vomiting, seeing Gareth, fucking Gareth, hating Gareth, exercising and exercising, bingeing and vomiting. Overcome by the fear and confusion and heartache. Studying for finance exams, but really just exercising and bingeing and vomiting.


The exams are done now and I have been free from those chains for a week - definitely alleviating a great deal of the pressure from my mental crumbling. I was close to slipping back under into the darkness. The darkness of having complete loss of control, complete loss of everything to the sickness in my brain.
days …

Wanting

We both knew what we wanted - of that there is absolutely no doubt.
We didn't have to say anything, from the start of the week, right up until the point where I was naked in his bed; we both knew.
About two weeks ago Gareth and a few of our colleagues had arranged to have a night out this Friday. We had a pretty tight knit group of 6 who often lunched together at work, but this was one of the few times we were actually going out together. From Monday Gareth was pestering me like he had before:  "Are you coming out on Friday, are we going out out, are we gonna have a big one..."  "Yes", I had replied, "of course." And I booked my waxing appointment and blowdry for Friday lunch, my mind made up about what I wanted.  I had been thinking what would I regret more; sleeping with him or not sleeping with him. I decided on the latter. I'd not been with anyone since Joe left in January and more than that, thoughts of Gareth were continually running through…