Starving for

I hate the icky side effects of a starvation diet.
My hands are cold and clammy; the skin on my arms is dull and papery. My shoulders droop with weakness, I couldn’t lift anything at the moment. I’m just so tired.
I must apologise for not commenting/replying in the last few weeks, I've only been getting on the computer at work and am a bit paranoid about having a computer screen of ED sites. I'm finishing this week so I promise I will catch up!!

I’ve had some incredible resolve recently in order to get these sickly starvation side-effects. There's a big party at work tonight. I knew I had to starve for it. I have to look thin tonight; have to look beautiful; have to look the best; have to look perfect; have to make ‘C’ want me.

...I didn’t think he would have been invited. Then he told me on Monday morning that had been invited and was indeed coming, so I haven’t eaten since except for some cucumbers, tomatoes and apples. I’ve been pumping the laxatives as well to clear that out. It took me about 4 hours to choose what to wear last night. Every expensive dress made me look too fat in the mirror. Not good enough. Not fucking good enough. Too fat. Not perfect.
I’ve settled for a black shift dress with a pink crochet shrug and a waist clinching belt. There’s no changing it now. It’s sitting in the car waiting for me to put on when work ends at 5pm. Please God, make the reflection be kind to me this evening when I put it on, please let me see thin arms and legs, please let my flat stomach be flattered.
Jesus Christ if I look shit later I’m not gonna be able to hold it in.
I need to look perfect.
My head can’t take it.
I’m so scared.
I’m gonna crack.
I’m not gonna crack.
I’m too strong. I’ve worked too hard.
I want this too much.

‘C’ is gonna be there. This could be the last time I ever see him.
Fuck.
I killed myself these whole last two weeks while he’s been up in the same office as me in order to look perfect.
And I’ve never been so complimented in my life about the way I look.
But nothing from him.
I don’t accept nothing. I don’t except failure.
I have got to nail it tonight.
For all I know he’s gonna turn up with a fucking girlfriend, then I’d laugh. All this psychotic behavior for nothing.
But even if he walks away from me without a word I want to make a lasting impression. I want him to think one thing: ‘Wow’.

So you think I’m a self-interested, self-obsessed bitch who wants people to admire her and wants the world at her feet.
Yeah, I am.
But if you hate me for it, be happy in the knowledge that my life is miserable and empty as a result and I have nothing. Nothing. Cos it’s just a dream.

‘‘You’re almost too thin’’.
Fuck you.
God I wanted to scream!
I took it as an insult to my intelligence not a compliment.
Talks with concerned ‘father figures’ that I don’t eat properly/enough. Heard it all before, know how to deceive you all without blinking. Waste of time dear.

I went for a killer run last night. Pushed myself further than ever and it felt simply amazing.
Imagine the high tonight after the makeup and the dress and the hair is all done. I will look perfect. Oh please, please, I have to… I know I will break down if I look bad…

My happiness is held in a mirror at 6pm tonight.
And somehow...I already know I'm not gonna look good enough for him,
for them,
for me.
For ever.


EDIT: Commenters, I love you. You're right, I'm absolutely gonna be the thinnest there, turn heads and relish in it!! Positive thinking Ophelia!! xxx