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.
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.
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