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Showing posts from February, 2009


Ok so, my new theory:

If I don't buy food, I can't eat it...

I've kept myself locked in my room the last few days and haven't really had anything left to eat in my flat other than tins of tuna (in water of course), some pieces of frozen chicken, frozen vegetables and porridge oats. The porridge oats have probably been my biggest downfall. Porridge and bread are my favourite binge foods, I can easily eat 4 bowls of porridge or a whole loaf of bread... I haven't bought bread in months... and I never buy milk anymore either, but I just can't get rid of the porridge! It really is one of the last things in the world that enables me to cope! (I make it with water not milk to save on calories) - tastes a bit naff, but still gives me the motivational kick I need!

I've also discovered Nakd bars - if you haven't heard of them, find them! Basically, despite my eating disorder and desire not to eat, I am also completely obsessed with getting all my vitamins etc. I cou…


It has been a rough week to say the least.

I haven't been into uni all week. Not once. Why? Because I'm a lazy, fat, drunken slut and I want to ruin my life as much as fucking possible.

I need someone to fucking tread on me tonight and make me cry my eyes out. I really need to cry, get down on my knees and scream my lungs out, smash up all my posessions, slash my curtains and paint streaks of red acress my walls. Shit. It's fucking raging inside of me. I need to cut myself.

but I have held off for so 3/4 weeks or something I think?

To try and get out some of this anger I have drawn red lines across my arms and legs. Apparently that is supposed to help because it looks like bleeding cuts, and I get that thrill and sense of satisfaction but without the permanent scars...
but still, like I say, I need some pain, I need something to make me scream and cry and go crazy at.
I have written the usual hate messages across my body in black marker pen: 'I will not eat',…

Snow cold and Skinny

I’m sitting on the train at the moment because I’ve been at home for the weekend – expect it was a weekend that extended to Thursday! I don’t where you are reading this, but my hometown is London, England. On Sunday night and all through Monday we were hit by the heaviest snow in 18 years. This resulted in the whole of our glorious capital city being effectively shut down! No big red buses roaming the streets, no trains and hardly even any taxis! Shameful? Just a bit. So anyway, no one could get to work, and I doubt most people even stepped outside their front door. Four days later and the snow is still sitting thick on the ground and hasn’t melted an inch! It’s absolutely foreign.

You should have seen me this morning dragging my lead-weight suitcase through the thick-set ice and snow on the paths. It was horrific! There was absolutely no point on having wheels on the bloody thing because it just wouldn’t move! So of course I was late, missed my trains, had to buy another really expens…


I said the word to James. Two nights ago, via text message: “When are we starting the list?”
I sent it at about 1 a.m. 48 hours later and he still hasn’t replied, which is most unlike him. I don’t think he’s ever not replied to me in the whole time that I know him. James is the kind of guy who prides himself on being a gentleman even though everyone knows he is nothing of the kind underneath his clear-cut English accent and polished charm. Perhaps this is how he wins so many girls into bed with him? Well, needless to say, I still expect a reply at some point; unless he was having sex at the time I sent it or was similarly engaged with a girl of some description and therefore did not register receiving my text.
Well, anyway it’s not a big deal to me, it was only going to be a past time to keep me amused.

Another guy that featured a lot in my life last year was Oliver. (Perhaps I should start using false names in this blog in case I get identified…but then I’d only start getting confused a…

I know...

The best thing about my ‘illness’ is that it is a self-fulfilling prophecy. In fearing that I am ugly and fat, I make my fears a reality by eating mountains upon mountains of food and vomiting as much as I can back up again.
Of course, every self-help book I pick up says the same old thing: "Vomiting only gets rid of 30-50% of calories in the food you have just eaten." Considering my binges can contain between 2,000 to 5,000 calories in one sitting, you can see how bulimia can make you very fat, very quickly.
Not to mention the teeth that will soon start dropping out of my already despised smile.

But this is the thing about an eating disorder and mental illnesses in general – they do not recognise sense or logic. I know that bulimia makes me fat. I can feel my teeth and oesophagus eroding away every time I spew my stomach acid through them. I know that I am ruining my body, ruining my health and ruining my life – but it doesn’t really register… or rather, it doesn’t really matt…


Firstly, thank you.
Caiten, whoever and wherever you are, that one comment meant so much to me. It was a shock and a truly great comfort.

At the same time, I was also very shaken. I have come out: This other identity, this dark side of me, this unspoken monster that I really am. Now I know she exists, alive and free from her chains, and it's a scary prospect, for in revealing this monster, I am also acknowledging her. My illness is not a secret anymore - it is real and I cannot deny it, for this page is living proof of its existence and its power over me.

My heart desires to give so much more to this blog, to post photos of myself, my mum, my friends, my university town, my hometown, my room, the boys I liked, the places I have been... I want to share my memories, and these huge images of who I am.
But this page must remain just words for now. I fear even telling you what University I am at...
This leads me to question why I am so afraid of being discovered...

I am ashamed of this i…