A Head Full of Beauty

Sometimes, I feel like I have two friends: Ana and Mia. Ana and Mia are constantly fighting over me because they both want to be my best friend - but obviously, I can only be friends with one at a time. When I spend too much time with Ana, Mia comes along and pushes her aside, and no matter how much I try to go back to Ana, I still like Mia too much to leave her straight away. Well, I decided last year, that Mia was a possessive bitch who only wanted to be friends with me in order to destroy me. Ana is my guardian angel - she wants the best for me. But despite this, Mia is still always hanging around outside...knocking on the door, begging me to let her back in... (and no I'm not hallucinatory, I don't really think they are real people :p ) MIA = BINGE = PURGE = BINGE I'd say the biggest threat to perfection and thinness is the big BINGE - that trance-like state where you just eat... and everything you stand for is forgotten... I don't really get why people enjoy being ...

Being away from home is not good for the soul. I feel like I've missed so much! Just spent the last few hours catching up with your blogs, you are such strong and inspirational ladies. So, Monday-Thursday in Paris and Friday-Sunday at some sports tournament in Surrey. So much to write. I suppose, I should start with the last post. It was a bit of a shock coming online and reading it because in my drunken state I had forgotten all about posting it! So Max...well, let's just say this is the last time I will ever be writing about him in a post as the whole thing was over almost as soon as it began. Like I said before, he had liked me since we met, but being the bitch that I am, I didn't consider him good enough for me, and rejected his advances back in September, soon after which he started going out with another girl and I began to regret my decision because he treated her like gold. They broke up two or three weeks ago. To cut a long story short, I went out that night with...

It's nearly 3am and I have to be on the coach at 7am to go to Paris. Argh. And yeah I'm a little bit drunk - typing is really hard in this state. I drank and I ate today. Loads. Worthless piece of shit. I looked fucking huge in my dress tonight. Anyway. I pulled this guy, Max. He's lovely, lovely, really. I know he's liked me for ages, and then he decided to go out with this girl, and they've just broken up. And oh! I don't know, am I using him? Am I gonna change my mind and be heartless towards him? But goodness, he is so... I dunno, just so... he says things I've never heard a guy say to me before... makes me feel incredible... and I feel like...why? Does he know? Would he care? What am I doing? Why. He is such a lovely guy. The boyfriend type of guy. and honestly, I think I'd just fuck him up. Im not a girlfriend kind of girl. Fuck mah pff Ok so this is the last time I'm gonna be online for like 4 days. I'm gonna miss you guys. I'm afraid....

I'm currently sitting in Starbucks at London St Pancras station, waiting for my train back to uni (and an empty kitchen! joy!!) I've been here at the station for about two hours... and still another hour to go before my train actually departs. I decided it would be better to leave home before dinner just so I could avoid another fiasco (seriously staying at home these last two weeks has been living hell! Closets full of food, taking out rubbish bags every other day in secret. Not to mention constantly being surrounded by tons and tons of food screaming out "Binge On Me!" To amuse myself I bought a copy of the American Edition of Vogue here at the station's WHSmith . Beyonce on the cover: "Real women have curves". Looking at these pictures even now, the first thing that strikes me is, bloody hell, she has massive thighs and arse. Like...really...I'd hate to have her figure...and yet...everyone always goes on about how great it is. I have this issue ...

Water. No calories. In the right mind set it is extraordinarily filling. I'm drowning in it. Drowning is the glamorous way to go don't you know. I think I made that up. I want to thank you all for all your comments. You are the best support system a girl could ask for and I am so incredibly grateful. You have to forgive me for my lack of posting and commenting recently. I come on here everyday, numerous times a day, to read all your posts - I don't know why I can't write. I think sometimes it's because I feel so... unworthy? I will make up for it! This blog is the only place in the world where I don't have to lie. I lie to everyone else: my friends, my mum, my university lecturers. I even lie to strangers. Except I don't call it lying, I call it 'hiding the truth'. But why do I feel the need to hide the truth? It's simple, I don't want to hurt my mum, I don't want be labelled a freak, I don't want to be misunderstood, I don't wa...

It doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. It doesn't matter how pretty your friends think you are. It doesn't matter how many guys praise your figure. YOU ARE FAT. What's keeping you from being happy? What's stopping you from living the life you want? What is the cause of all your misery? Like I even need to reply... The answer is sitting on your thighs...The problem is hanging on your hips... Most people go through their lives being "average", " mediocre ", " ok ". Is that what you want? To be a "normal-sized" girl at a "healthy-weight" with "natural curves"? Or a STUNNING girl, the HEAD-TURNER, the PERFECT one? Most people accept themselves as God made them. Most people are happy with being average and ok . And do you know why? Because they are too weak, too lazy and too happy to sit on their over-sized arses to try to change. NOT US. You, me, us. We look upon them with pity, because they will never be a...

Well I'm back from my weekend in the Lake District...can't say it was as much fun as I had hoped, but still, better than sitting around feeling crap. The weather was appalling, but I got a fantastic work-out going all out up the tallest peak in England - but God my legs ached like hell! Really wasn't impressed with the rain and hail which was periodically whipping across my face - hurt more than my legs! I swear everywhere else in the UK was sunny this weekend and suddenly we entered some micro climate in the Lake District where it became mid-winter. Well, anyway, like I said, I went with a bunch of hardcore military guys and two of my best girlfriends, and we all went out clubbing in the local town of Ambleside - I say clubbing but it was more like an old village pub that had a dungeon-like cellar with a dancefloor . (I'm a London girl, born and bred so I just don't really have a taste for rural England life.) Well anyway, this little place clearly hadn't see...

Hmm sorry for the last post. I tend to go all crazy, manic, poetic style when I hit the depth of hell. So last night was the biggest breakdown I've had for quite a while... well a least like two months or something? Really did some scary binging, like really 'think my heart and stomach are failing' kinda scary. And like I mentioned in the last post, I went for the horror look with regards to cutting my arms. Jesus Christ. Did my best to throw up all the food again, don't know how much I managed, but I ate so much I doubt it all came out. Just dissolved into tears and curled up in a ball under my duvet. Oh this might have had something to do with an overdue assessment and 'I need to eat to write an essay' and 'I can't write this essay!' Woke up the next morning and had to face a room strewn with wrappers and plates. Really, I ate ALL that?! So here I am, writing my essay ( yay !). I have to get it handed in tomorrow else I fail my whole year... which...

In November, the rain is grey. It is not November, but I am so afraid of it. It will be in London, walking down along a grey Thames, my head bitterly cold, sweating sickly under my collar, face patchy, makeup smudged and trying desperately to lie for me. Clawing off my suit of repulsiveness, using mirrors to abuse myself, I will ache from carrying books and books that I can never read. I am so afraid of seeing November. I will be failing at success, pretending to be an angel with sewn on polyester wings. The scars will be purple in the cold and I will be proud. Ah yes, it made me strong. In November, I will have returned to the dance studio, singing ‘Lean on me’, shapeless, pale, disgusting. The bare, bleak world of grey where I sewed my skirt over in pain, ignorant of how hurtful the bitching truth would be. Why do you do it? ‘I do it so it feels like hell, I do it so it feels REAL’. It keeps me alive. It gives me an identity; an isolating force from my body which helps myself to stan...