Skip to main content


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 seen the likes of party-lovers like us and it took about an hour before we were chucked out. So back to the campsite (eugh camping!) Me and my girlfriends decided to sack off sleeping out the the freezing cold tent and took our sleeping bags into the 'drying room', where we were joined by Peter (see previous post 22nd Feb) and I spent the whole night snuggled up to him wishing for more. Urgh, why! There is nothing more comforting than having the warm body of a strong man next to you. I just spent the whole night close against him, inhaling his scent, wishing I could hold him tight. I threw all logic out the window - I just wanted him so badly. It made me really sad that I didn't have a boyfriend. All the times in the last year when I have been intimate with a guy I've been too drunk to enjoy that feeling of security, and I really missed it. It really made me very sad.

So, back to the important things. Fat. I am still fat. It's fucking killing me.
I've got to go home tomorrow, because I've got three weeks off uni for Easter.
I am so, so frightened.
Already my mum has been telling me about all the 'treats' she has bought me to eat.
She is going to make me eat.
How can I bear it? How can I live in a house, with a kitchen full of 'treats'.
I just want to starve.
How on earth do you guys that live at home do it? How do you manage with the family meals?? Any advice would be appreciated so much!!

I'd rather just stay here in my flat at uni and rot. Seriously.
I hate food. I hate it more than I hate myself and my body. I hate it because it controls me. Starving myself is so easy when I'm in my flat at uni, because I just don't keep food here. But back home...its three meals a day sat down with my mum in a kitchen stocked full of food. How the fuck am I gonna find the strength? I'm so scared, how am I gonna find control? Please Help!


  1. I find blaming not eating on exam stress, regardless of how easy the exam is or may seem you can juts build up the drama and say you need to revise for it/you're really worried and that's why you don't feel like eating.

    It works for me sometimes. Plus, I know this is quite disgusting but when times are kinda desperate pleed to eat in your room and put all the food in a shoe box and then put it straight in the wheely bin to avoid anyone noticing. Say you were doing a clean out, or something.

    I wish I could help you more.
    Those things seem a little rubbish.



Post a Comment

Don't be anonymous, leave a name at least so I can identify you back :)

Popular posts from this blog


I have wanted to come back for a little while. So much has happened since my last post. Work colleagues mostly, a trial run with a boy from an app. Arthur, Francis, Gregory, Vincent, Russell, Simon R. Shoes that didn't fit. There are pages about them of course, not here, but in notebooks and scribbles on my phone written on my tube commute. Some indifference, some annihilation, all part of my continual journey.

In February, I met Thomas, and the turn began. We began dating in April, I was labelled his girlfriend in August, and he is the kindest man I have ever let into my life.

I went to Bali in March. Like the healing of the Nile, the energy pulsed deep into my cells and blood and I have not let it go yet. The vibrations of the gong still echoing in my ears, the sunrise still glowing in my heart, the peace and tranquillity in the silent hum of those green fields... I came back with a deep, divine knowledge, that I treasure, every time I am close to forgetting.

And now, I am train…

"Feeling 22, acting 17"

Except at 26, neither feeling 22 nor acting 17 is okay.

All the secrets I have to keep.

I can't tell anyone what I did last night. Except the whole world here, with my anonymous face.

Because I know I should be ashamed.

All week I had been thinking about Gareth. Thinking, longing, dreaming - at the expense of my work and my sanity.
But the strangest thing happened to my eating. No binges, no starving, no vomiting, just level-headed control. Was it the faux joy?

We spoke every day: whatsapp, office messenger, lunches in the bank restaurant and 'meetings' in the bank coffee shop, sessions in the gym and runs along embankment. No sense for being sensible and holding back, getting closer and closer. I wanted to be closer and closer. I kept thinking about having my hands on him. Fuck him. Fuck him for literally putting those thoughts firmly in my mind. And damn me for going back to being the fuck up I'd suppressed for so long.

It's no coincidence that my one-…

"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