Watering-down Paris

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 want to be judged. Because, tell someone you have an eating disorder, and you become nothing more than a vain, white, middle class girl who wants attention.

Anyway, this is the only place where I can write the truth. I never want to keep the truth from you. And that is incredibly liberating.
The unedited, uncensored version that the people who know me can only get snippets of.
Those idiots who think it would be big and clever to shut down anything on the internet with a whiff of 'pro-ana' would be killing off the only real part of me.
Jesus, how sad does that sound.
I never was an 'internet geek' -in fact, ask any of my friends and they would tell you I am the exact opposite. I am the crazy, party-loving one, who gets all the guys. As if I sit at home writing and commenting on blogs!

So I am starving on. And no one has a clue, expect you.

This time last year I was in therapy for my eating disorder. It was just humiliating; every part of it, every single kind, understanding face humiliated me. I would sit meekly at a sterile table looking across at the most logical woman in the world. She would shoot down everything I said, but it made no difference.
There was one simple principle that she didn't understand. I will have an eating disorder until I look in the mirror and think I am beautiful. None of your 'meal plans' and 'working out triggers' are going to stop that. When she handed me the pie chart of 'a balanced diet' I looked at her as if she were crazy. (seriously have you seen those things!)
I am telling you all now. Don't go there. Don't get caught. Don't give yourselves in. If you decide you want to recover, do it on your own. Stop at your goal weight. Don't let people see the scars. Don't let people get even the slightest worry. Remember, this is YOUR control, and other people only want to interfere.

I'm going to Paris on Monday with a large group of friends - for four days.

Oli is one of these 'friends'. (This is what happens when you are part of a stupidly big social group). I hate that I have friends who are friends with him. It just aggravates my wounds even more. I know he'll spend the trip flirting with the pretty girls, they love him. Maybe I should make an effort to get along with him. I'm just such a proud bitch. Boy-wise, however, I believe he is the only one I will have issues with on the trip, which is not bad!

I will be fasting until the trip. I will be fasting during the trip. And I will be fasting after the trip!
Can't really be bothered with my friends getting worried about me not eating. I'm an amazing liar, it won't be an issue. The only big issue is the drinking. Yeah I am a little bit of a crazy party girl... but only with the help of my friend Mr Binge Drinking. And ALL my friends drink themselves silly on nights out. I mean, it's university...there's not much else to do...(other than have sex...)
To give you an idea of what I face, a direct quote from a message inviting me to the "Pre-Paris Piss Up":
"The best way to guarantee a long journey goes quickly is to be drunk/hungover and/or get naked*. A massive piss up on Sunday should help achieve both. (*remembering of course that getting naked is wrong and unbecoming). Meet at 8pm, and drink till we bleed, before heading to somewhere horrible."
Anyway, I know alcohol is one of the most calorific things in the world... but how on earth can I go out partying in Paris, sober, and with the most alcoholic maniacs in my university? I think it would be one of the most miserable experiences of my life.
So. I am going to let myself drink while I'm in Paris. Only one glass or one bottle though. If I'm not eating then I should get drunk really quick and it should hit me hard for a whole night.
I know it's bad of me... but... it's Paris... :s


Sending you lots of skinny love

x x x x