Skip to main content

A full life on an empty stomach

To my regular readers, apologies for being away for so long. My laptop died last Monday and took 5 days to repair! And I suppose in that time I also became slightly disillusioned and confused. To Holly in particular, sorry for not replying.
I was sick and alone. After the initial ecstasy of starving, it began to feel like I was rotting away in my room...for nothing and no-one.
I went to the ball on Saturday and since then all I have done is eat and I have been too ashamed to post, knowing that my body was so filled with shit, knowing that I was a traitor to this head full of beauty and to all of you.

To quickly update you on my ball on Saturday: It was brilliant and a really good laugh. Fitted into my dress like a dream - so worth the fast! Got hit on by several guys (bless them, not a chance!), pulled a guy called Pete I had liked in second year making Oli jealous and receiving drunken calls and texts from him hahaha. Although I sort of regret pulling Pete now cos he's FAR too nice and sweet to get involved with a girl like me. Oh also pulled Simon V again... just cos... I might have really wanted to have sex with him...sorry... Also got pissed off at James for looking sooooooo deliciously hot, and erm that's it?

So if polluting my body with sickening amounts of alcohol that night wasn't enough I decided to eat and eat and eat the next day, and the next and the next.
I keep looking in the mirror expecting myself to have ballooned.
Mmm 3 day fast to get me back on track.

While I've been away from this blog I've had a lot of time to think.

I am more than an eating disorder.
I do not consume food. I am consumed.
Every time I eat, I am consumed.
I am consumed by myself.
I am an eating disorder.

The ball on Saturday night.
All the pictures are up on facebook.
So many smiling faces, drunk on euphoria, high on life...filled with the beautiful May dream of university...the life of the privileged few, enjoying the best time of their lives.
We may not know it now, but we will cherish these hedonistic times and value these vibrant memories for the rest of our lives.
Tears from our happiness sting my eyes.

I am leaving. That’s it, all over. I have two essays and an exam, and then I leave this university city and return to London.
I too will cherish my memories,
But they will always be tarnished
Bright laughter from a black heart
Lovers pillows damp with tears
Happy memories hung with a hatred of myself.

I hate my eating disorder because it has ruined my life.
I love my eating disorder because it is the hope of my life.

I am twenty-one years old. I lived the best times of my life already dead. It was too late for me; I never got there and perhaps I never could have.
I do this because I can’t stop. I do this because it’s all I have left of myself.

The truth is that all the girls who were uglier or fatter than me had a happier time because they didn't care. Sometimes I wish I could be like that, and yet my head can't process how they can be like that. I don't know many girls who I would be happy to look like...and yet they are happy...and I look down on them for it. I know that's horrible and sick, but I can't understand why anyone would be happy being 'average'. I understand the desire for perfection and I fully support that in others. Perfection isn't something I want, it's something I need and something I'm obsessed with.

But I deserve to be more ruined memories.
I don't do it because I hate myself, I do it because I love myself.
I want to be beautiful, skinny and happy.
I love my life. I love my rich, full life on an empty stomach :)


  1. ...all the days I lived awake but half asleep

  2. You've just said all that I've wanted to say to anyone who's asked me 'why?'

    You write exactly what I think.
    Thank you.

    Good luck with your fast.

  3. i know what you mean when you say you dont understand how other girls can be happy to look like they but yet they are happier than you etc.

    so feel the same

    good luck with the fast im sure youll get back track


  4. I really love the way you write... It's beautiful.

  5. Oh my God! I am so glad you're back.

    Ophelia I need you, you know.

    I'm going to fast again. I don't know if I'll be able to go past three days but I swear I'm going to try. I've got to do it. I want to do it.

    I love you! And stay strong. <3

    By the way:

    "I am twenty-one years old. I lived the best times of my life already dead. It was too late for me; I never got there"

    That actually made me cry.

  6. The media will bludgeon you with lies, suggesting that if you haven't 'made it' by 21, you're worthless. Don't believe it. Especially since they don't specify the criteria, direction or means of 'making it'.


  7. as long as your happy nothing else matters...good luck with your fast

  8. "You have to be strong, grit your teeth and lose the weight before it's too late. Your future should be happy and thin, not still battling with this like I am."

    Ophelia, I love you. Genuinely. Thank you.

    I swear to you I will. You are so right. I need to bite my tongue and say stop. No more shit.

    Why am I making myself so fat when it makes me so unhappy?


Post a Comment

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

Popular posts from this blog

"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

Love. Sick.

And finally, today, I cried; soaked the tissues and pillowcase like I had been longing to do for weeks. The most I had been able to manage recently had been dry crying with a scrunched up face and aching heart. Such relief now to be able to physically release emotions other than vomit.

What words do I use to write about the last few weeks? Crippling, torturous anxiety, studying for finance exams, exercising and exercising, bingeing and vomiting, seeing Gareth, fucking Gareth, hating Gareth, exercising and exercising, bingeing and vomiting. Overcome by the fear and confusion and heartache. Studying for finance exams, but really just exercising and bingeing and vomiting.

The exams are done now and I have been free from those chains for a week - definitely alleviating a great deal of the pressure from my mental crumbling. I was close to slipping back under into the darkness. The darkness of having complete loss of control, complete loss of everything to the sickness in my brain.
days …


We both knew what we wanted - of that there is absolutely no doubt.
We didn't have to say anything, from the start of the week, right up until the point where I was naked in his bed; we both knew.
About two weeks ago Gareth and a few of our colleagues had arranged to have a night out this Friday. We had a pretty tight knit group of 6 who often lunched together at work, but this was one of the few times we were actually going out together. From Monday Gareth was pestering me like he had before:  "Are you coming out on Friday, are we going out out, are we gonna have a big one..."  "Yes", I had replied, "of course." And I booked my waxing appointment and blowdry for Friday lunch, my mind made up about what I wanted.  I had been thinking what would I regret more; sleeping with him or not sleeping with him. I decided on the latter. I'd not been with anyone since Joe left in January and more than that, thoughts of Gareth were continually running through…