Sunday, 29 March 2009

"...he's not worth it"

"Men. They're just not worth it."
"You're SO beautiful."
"He's clearly blind."
"You can do so much better than him."
"He's not worth it."

No. Dear friends, you're wrong, it's me. I'm not worth it.
He's not blind, he just doesn't fancy girls with fat legs.
I'm not beautiful. I'm dead.

Oh the cliches. They come out thick and fast from my friends.
Last night, prime example.
So, in my last post but one 'further into ana's arms' I mentioned Sam and how I had started to become really attracted to him.
Well we started chatting via facebook and texting etc, and it was all so lovely, and it made me so happy. I thought there might be something...
Last night was a big social to the student union club, and naturally I persuaded him to come. Oh, I was so excited, so high, so full of desire to live. Our conversations had led me to believe he was coming out just to see me.
So I let myself imagine, something happening, something developing; I imagined him making me happy.

I made myself look as perfect as possible. And I did, I know it, I was the prettiest girl there. I was. But my legs...my legs...the scars...the round face...oh I hate you.

And Sam and I were together, chatting, laughing, getting along so well. And then. He suddenly tells me his heartache about liking another girl. Kate. He likes her. The clean blonde, tiny, little girl with cute rosy cheeks and shining eyes. And it all goes black.

That was it. I flip. I drink and drink, punch walls, throw up, flirt and flaunt myself, spend half the night in the toilets, looking in the mirror, touching up every bit of makeup every 10 minutes. Hating myself, hating myself, because he doesn't like me.

Concerned people telling me I'm not fat.
Bastards telling me not to make anymore scars on my arms.
"It's none of your business what I do!" I screamed at him.
"Look you're a really nice girl, and I know I'm a horrible guy, but don't do it ok."
"Oh seriously spare me the shit."
(This was Simon V by the way - see previous posts - apparently under some sort of illusion that the scars on my arms were due to him??)

Perhaps Sam saw my arms and that's what put him off. Can't blame him for not fancying a psychotic freak.
All these people think I'm crazy and they don't even know the half of what my life with ana is like.

Oh God what's wrong with me.
I starved myself so well for this night in order to look good enough. The belly was shrinking.

And I drank and drank. And bought two portions of chips with cheese and a cheese burger as I stumbled home, shoeless, fighting off a stalker man asking to be my boyfriend. Dream a horrible, vivid dream about Oli. Wake up, eat a packet of cereal and two cookies. Throw up. Success. Glory.


You know, all night long, I just wanted to come here. As I stood in front of the mirror, as I left the club, and I ran home, all I could think about was this blog and all of you. All I wanted was to come here to my sanctuary and tell the only people I could tell.
I love reading all your blogs.
I love being able to be truthful to you in return.


This coming monday night is the biggest social of the year. I was so excited. I was going to be stunningly perfect. I was going to be with Sam. Oh I was going to shine like Ana's star.
And now, my throat still vile from vomit, the scars cracking and going purple, seeing the face in the mirror of a girl who is not and will not ever be little, sweet Kate. How can I go now?

I am fasting. Three days. Hold my hand and shrink with me.

Wednesday, 25 March 2009

To wear Ted Baker

I have an assignment due in 7 hours.
I have no intention of getting it done on time.
I will hand it in late, like I always do, and be penalised for it.
I am in my final year of university now - the most important year or some shit like that.
Who knows...who cares.

I'm under some sort of perverse illusion that in order to write an essay I need to eat shit loads. So I have eaten shit loads.

I do not need to eat for fucks sake!

Every day I am making the daily trip to the supermarket. I have no food whatsoever in my flat. I can't have any food around without binging on it - it doesn't matter what it is - I'll cook it, eat it raw, eat it all, not stop. So, every day, ravenously hungry, I go to the supermarket, walking up and down the isles, checking the back of every packet, choosing something, putting it back, wringing my hands in angst.
"That nutter girl is back again."
Yeah, I just walk up and down your supermarket looking at food because I'm bored and lonely.

Anyway the brilliant thing is, I may be pulling my hair out in desperation for a binge, but the second I get into the supermarket, my pride comes back. Scoffing at people with baskets full of food, "I wouldn't eat that!" An hour later, after having picked up and put back an assortment of sandwiches, pasta, etc, I will walk out with only a bottle of flavoured water.
The second I get back to my flat, I crave a binge again.
So, yeah, I'm driving myself crazy for a binge, but, the fact of the matter is, I find it impossible to buy it!

Jesus how am I still so fat?!?!

I'm just pretty angry at myself at the moment.
I've started cutting again. Fuck knows why, as if I don't have enough stupid scars already.
I'm just so frustrated. My thighs are just disgusting. DISGUSTING. And my arms?!?! My arms belong on a fucking obese person. I have had enough.
I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE TELL ME I'M NOT FAT!
Is there anything more hideously insulting?! Really?! It just makes me so angry. Are they just stupid or do they think I'm stupid? I'm embarrassed for myself at how fat I am. How can anyone have the nerve to call me pretty? To tell me that I don't need to lose weight? I am just SO SICK OF IT! What, are they scared of me getting prettier? Are they threatened by the idea of me looking stunning? Are they wanting to get to perfection before me?
God, if I started listening to my 'friends' I might actually start being happy at a 'normal' weight as a 'normal' girl living a 'normal' life. Fucking hell, why on earth would I settle for 'normal'. I will not be happy in my own skin. I will fight their logic. I will not listen to the cries of 'men like curvy women'. Jesus.

I have been on a massive shopping binge (which I always do when I feel really shit about myself). Somehow the fact that I am fat and ugly can be somewhat balanced by buying some gorgeous new dresses to wear. I bought two Ted Baker dresses and about six from Yumi/Dari Meya. Yeah, I'm a student living on a student loan in a fucking recession... but I don't buy food... soooo I can afford very expensive clothes? Who am I kidding.

Anyway, standing in the changing rooms of Ted Baker wearing this stunning £130 dress, showing off all my curves and thinking YUCK. No dress is worth £130 on curves.

Bought it anyway, cos these curves are dissolving fast :)

Thursday, 19 March 2009

Further into Ana's arms <3


Firstly, big thanks to all of you that have been reading or commenting. Really, you guys are what make this blog work for me, and this blog working is what keeps me strong!

Last night was a the big St Patricks Day celebration at the club I'm a part of at uni.
Originally I had intended to stay at home and get some work done on my assignment due next week (shit, still not started it... will start it after I've finished this post!) I figured that if I went, I'd only see Oli, feel fat and ugly, get upset and go on a massive binge. But in the afternoon I hit the gym big time and was absolutely buzzing off the adrenaline for the rest of the day - literally bouncing off the walls at such a good workout. So I decided that I'd go and pull out all the stops.

As it was a St Patricks celebration the fancy dress theme was Irish. Well I wasn't going to go dressed in shitty green clothes so I decided to go as an Irish Fairy/Pixie/Nymph. I wore a brand new, beautiful, floaty white cocktail dress (absolutely luscious this dress!) and wore a wreath of white flowers in my hair with plain green ribbon. Touch of glitter and a set of wings and I looked the part. To be honest, walking in I felt a little bit over-dressed with everyone else in green t-shirts and such haha, but then most people are accustomed to me being over-dressed - I always wear nice dresses for every occasion. Plus, what girl doesn't love to be the prettiest in any scene?

It was a really good night, still high off my gym session I was feeling the best I had done there for a long while. Lots of people commented on how good I looked and that only drove my mood higher :) I LOVE ANA, she is the beauty in me!!!!!!

Anyway obviously there was no avoiding Oli but I completely blanked him for the whole evening and just pranced around in my confident style, flirting and enjoying the party. One boy in particular had caught my attention - Sam. Had spoken to him before, but was previously too hung up on Oli to notice that actually, Sam is rather pretty! Absolutely loved Oli watching me and Sam sat in the corner together - ohhhhhh such a good feeling :)
About halfway through the evening I saw Oli in deep conversation with one of my best mates, and as I was staring over at her she gave me a knowing look to reassure me that it was ok. They were chatting for quite a while and it seemed to be pretty intense... but all the time she kept looking at me to reassure me... she seemed to be comforting him... and then she was holding his hand... and then she gave him a massive hug. I was just like wtf?!?!
So as soon as they had finished I went straight over and asked her what it was about. She said that he was saying that he didn't want a girlfriend while he was in the army because he didn't want her to worry about him etc (1. He's not gonna be joining for like 2 years at least, 2. I've already had this fucking conversation with him, and 3. I don't get the logic of his argument). And then she said that he told her that I looked really pretty tonight (wooop!).
It's so comforting to know that me looking hot was making him upset. I know, I know I'm a bitch, but he rejected me, so he can fucking suffer for it!!! And the thinner I get, the more beautiful I get, the more he will watch me flirting with hotter guys, the more he will have to suffer for what he can no longer have :)

I know it's crazy that even last night when so many people were telling me how amazing I looked, I still absolutely hated my reflection. I dunno, I guess that yeah, I was prettier than other girls there, but still, come on! My big flabby arms were on show, my lack of cheekbones cannot be hidden by blusher, my figure is a million miles off being anywhere near perfect!! To me, you can't call anyone beautiful unless they are perfect - model perfect, model thin. I know that these people weren't lying when they said they thought I was beautiful, but... well I just don't value their opinion. I have higher standards, I believe in perfection, I believe that it is achievable. It's not good enough to me to be one of the prettiest in one university society. It's not good enough that I still need makeup to create illusions. It's not good enough that I need to wear beautiful dresses. It's not enough. I want to stand there in anything and be perfect.

The only way to achieve that is to be tiny. "Thin people look good in ANY kind of clothes." My cheekbones will speak for themselves.
The compliments that I got last night haven't made me complacent or happy about how I look it; drives me further into ana's arms. The feeling of euphoria it gave me only spurs me on. I want more. I want Oli to feel more shit. I want all the guys who ever treated me badly to cry into their pillows. I want to walk through every room with my head held high knowing that I have achieved it - perfection - and I want everyone to see it. I want more.

Perfection is ours for the taking, we've suffered for it, we deserve it. LETS TAKE IT!

Friday, 13 March 2009

We all want Beauty

I should really be doing some uni work. And instead I have just spent the last 4 hours reading blogs and checking out thinspo... I should really stop.

I'm gonna spend the rest of the evening carrying on with my Ana Book - a little notebook I carry around with me that's full of thinspo and little pro-ana quotes and stuff like that. I don't seem to ever actually use it (the idea is to get it out when I want to binge and use it to make me stop!) but adding to it always cheers me up and gets my motivational motor running.
The walls of my room here at uni are covered with models from magazines. One of my favourites is the Lacoste Touch of Pink perfume advert, and I also love the girl in the Armani Code perfume advert. Always wonder if my friends think I'm a lesbian when they come into my room... I mean I've got the standard Justin Timberlake posters etc, but still a great deal more beautiful women! I just love them though, just love them so much for being so perfectly beautiful.

I was thinking also about people I may know who have an eating disorder but like me keep it hidden from everyone else. A girl on my course who was so enviably skinny, (I mean gorgeously, perfectly skinny!) has just created a group on facebook for a new eating disorder group here at uni. I guess I should have known she was ana, but I always assume that skinny girls are just lucky or something and didn't have to struggle for it.
Also I remember talking to Oli about food back when things were good between us and was shocked when he said that he used to read the nutritional information on food packages to check the calorie content. I never asked any more about it because I was afraid of him finding out about me, but it still makes me wonder. Oli is, like me, working towards Commission at Sandhurst to become an army officer, and he has the body of a Greek God, really, (haha why do you think I was so crazy about him!) and sure, he works out a lot, but it also made me wonder if he works out with the same motivation that I have - to look good. Does he worry about fat content and calories like I do? Is he obsessed with his image to the same devastating levels that I am?
Writing about it now reminds me of another boy I knew in first year, Neal. Although we lived in university catered residence, Neal never had dinner in the canteen with us. He cooked his own stuff. Chicken apparently. Just chicken...

The thing I hate most about bdd and being obsessed with my weight and appearance is the fact that it really is a most self-obsessive illness. I mean, there's no denying it, it's self-obsessive self-love. I mean even blogging has got to be one of the most egoistical past times ever! All these people that I know could have issues like me. Even Neal who I was crazy in love with. Even Oli who I was crazy in love with. I didn't ask, I wasn't concerned, I just assumed it was always me with the problem.
(I should add that Neal and Oli could well just be really fit guys who like to stay in shape and not neurotic bulimics, but the fact is that I never had the concern to check.)

The other night I was having a standard attack of anger about Oli and while one of my friends was comforting me she told me all the things that she was dealing with, and oh my god, it made my problems look stupid! Sure, it was shit having to see Oli, but here she was seeing a guy she had liked getting with another girl in front of her face. She had an abortion a year ago fuck it. A fucking abortion and she was having to deal with the memory of it exactly one year on. And there am I making scars along my arm and feeling sorry for myself. She puts a smile on her face and stays strong.

I could do the same, but only if I was thin. THIN! Gorgeous. Irresistible. Like these women on my walls. Don't tell me they're not happy.

Purge and Careers...

Ok, so this is a little bit gross, but I just had the best purge ever.

I find that the best purges are always the planned ones, where you just eat and eat knowing that you are going to be sick straight afterwards. The best purge foods are white bread, cereal and noodles. They just come straight back out in great thick, massive lumps and it is so, so satisfying to feel it. That shit that could have been in your body coming out triumphantly.
Foods that do not purge well: Yogurt (ewww), eggs, ice cream and gross dairy stuff like that - just really not worth the trauma.

Not that I'm championing the binge and purge cycle here, but if you are about to have a massive binge with the mind to purge afterwards just consider what you're eating and how easy it will come back up.


I went for a massive gym session yesterday and my arms and stomach are aching - the best feeling in the world!! My legs are still feeling fine because I actually stretched them out properly for once, so I took a two hour walk this afternoon to get a few more calories off.
I used to be completely obsessed with the gym last year and got really fit as a result. I really want to get back into that mode, I really don't think anything beats that euphoric feeling after a beasting in the gym.

...but how on earth do you manage to work out so much and still not eat?!?! I find it impossible to work out with no energy and likewise after a long work out, if I don't eat I get the most painful headaches! Is there a way to work out and not need extra food?!

I have been accepted at all three of my choices for Law School in London this September... just to decide now which one I want to go to, and if I really want to go. (I know the answer to this question is no, I do not want to study law... but at the same time, what other option is there for me?... I am really tempted to join the RAF or Army...

So knowing that I'm doing this whole army thing you probably imagine me to be this really butch, tomboy figure who is really tough and strong - well imagine the opposite of that and I guess you have a pretty good description of me.
I love fashion and clothes, I almost always wear dresses, love wearing flowers in my hair, love doing my hair, love makeup. I am (as so many people always affectionately tell me) fragile, sweet, feminine and all that kinda shit... eugh, yeah I would fit in so well in the armed forces. Not!

Oh. I don't know what I'm going to do when I leave uni! Still better get back in that gym to keep morale up eh!

Sunday, 8 March 2009

Nurse R

I really miss James.

There, I said it.
He was one of the few people that knew about me. He was one of the few people I could tell.

Well, it's lost now, what can I do... it taught me never to tell people.

It makes me very sad in a way, because I know I could never have a good relationship that worked with a guy. I'd make him so miserable. I feel incredibly sorry for any man that would truly love me, for I would just treat him like crap and push him out of my life. The truth is, I don't think I could live with anyone. I love being able to come back to my flat, take off my restrictive clothing, wash off all the makeup and remove all the pins from my hair and just be myself as I am naturally. I do love that... but only so long as nobody can see me. There is no way that I would ever let any guy that I was dating see me in such a state - so how on earth could I live with them, or even marry them! The idea is horrifying to me.

What I really don't get is a guy that would love me 'for who I really am'. No, any guy that loved me for who I really am would have to be crazier than I am, and lets face it, crazy isn't sexy. If a guy were to see me naked and without makeup and still love me, yeah, I'm sorry, that would freak me out - he'd clearly be either completely insane, blind or just plain desperate.

Soooo I have booked an appointment to see my Eating Disorders nurse on Tuesday.
I've been at home in London for the past week (due to a complete breakdown in the days before and following my last post) and as a result of being at home, the old binging and purging has sky-rocketed again. (At uni I don't keep any food in my flat so it's impossible to binge unless I go to the shops, and once I get inside a supermarket I always go into uber obsessive mode, pacing up and down the aisles, looking at every packet for calories, pace up and down some more, and then leave empty handed. - Anyone watching me on CCTV must think I'm either a thief or just escaped from a mental hospital.)
Anyway, yeah, following the standard binging on whole loaves of bread/boxes of cereal, throwing up and repeating the process over and over again, I decided that I needed to give it up and go back to eating three meals a day like normal people (cos this binge-eating was giving me the wobbly belly from hell!) Erm... but three meals a day?! Really?! I'd rather be Ana... and going to the eating disorders nurse may help me lose Mia, but isn't going to help me get back Ana.

My resolution: Prove that I do not binge until Tuesday. Get back Ana. Cancel the appointment with the nurse - I hate that woman - it seems like every conversation we have is about how curvy is beautiful - Fucking hell IT IS NOT! I just need to lose the binge and purge on my own and get back control to restrict properly again.

Monday, 2 March 2009

Control


Another week of being locked in my room.
Another week of missing uni.

I cannot bear to be seen right now. I don't just feel hideous, I know I am.
I am, fuck it, underneath the carefully applied makeup and nice clothes I'm fucking hideous.
My clothes are horrifically tight after all the amount of weight I've put on this week. I know it's been loads, and I don't have the guts to stand on the scales and see what I've done to myself.

I went on the most mental binge I've ever known on Wednesday after my friend's birthday.
Two packets of crisps (the massive sharing bags!), a packet of biscuits, a tub of ice cream, 4 sandwiches and not to mention bottles and bottles of alcohol.
Of course the next day because I was hungover and felt like crap I had to go on another binge and so on.

My mate had a massive go at Oliver on my behalf. I made a massive fool of myself in general going around telling everyone how much I liked him. I humiliated myself on a massive scale - as I mentioned before I turn into this disgustingly coarse and vulgar creature when I'm drunk. I hate myself for it.

Oliver didn't want me. That night he told everyone he didn't want me.
That night Simon told me he didn't want me.
He told me that's why he left me on Sunday night as well.
James didn't want me on Sunday.
None of these fucking unrespectable low-life sluts wanted me....this is how low I had sunk.

I spent my whole existence on making myself perfect and beautiful only to get drunk, act like a disgrace and throw it all away. There's no point me trying to act like a normal student, having friends, going out, having fun. There's no point cos I'm not normal, I'm not human, I can't do these things without going off the rails!


Anyway. I am never drinking alcohol again.
Yeah I'm the typical university student that says that all the time, but I actually mean it now.
I don't need those disgusting calories that just fuck up your body and your head and ruin your life.

My Dad was an alcoholic. That's how he fucking died ok.
There, I said it.

Alcohol ruined my life enough by killing him, I'm not going to let it destroy my body as well.
I'm taking back control.

GODDAMMIT I AM TAKING BACK CONTROL!

It's over - the drinking, the scandal, the drama, the chaos - OVER. I'm leaving the society I'm in at university. It may be the only place where I have any friends, but I have to sacrifice that. To stay away from that society means to stay away from alcohol and men. And that's what I need to do if I am to maintain any control over my emotions - and therefore maintain control over my body, my mind and my eating.
I don't care if my life is boring from now on, it's the only way I can keep control.

I need to be thinner. I need to be beautiful. I need to keep control of myself to get there.